


Home Invasion

by LilTabasco



Category: Dragon Ball
Genre: Aliens, F/M, Government Conspiracies, bulma is rad and totally secretive, chi chi is mega pta-mom, piccolo just wants to escape earth why wont u people let him
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-14
Updated: 2018-01-29
Packaged: 2018-12-15 05:19:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 30,808
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11799240
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LilTabasco/pseuds/LilTabasco
Summary: Piccolo's been stranded on Earth for as long as he can remember. His job is to find crashed ships for General Cold, all in an attempt to get something functioning so he can escape, and find his father. Unfortunately, an over-energetic PTA mom, an alien obsessed little boy, a rich heiress with a monkey, and government conspiracies are getting in his way. Chiccolo AU





	1. Aggressive Lady

Piccolo adjusted his sunglasses over the bridge of his nose, and dragged his ratty purple shirt over the top of his head. His antennae slapped against his forehead, and he grumbled. His feet caught on a few broken machine pieces as he kicked them out from underneath him, all while trying to drag on his shorts. 

He grabbed several bottles of water, and threw them into a rather hole-filled bag, before finally heading towards the door. Outside he was hit with a brutal gust of wind that almost knocked him sideways, and threw dust in every part of his mouth.

“Dammit,” he snarled. His attempts at swiping crust from the corner of his mouth were proving useless, so he gave it up. He trudged out towards the rust-bucket of a jeep he had, and peeled back the door. It practically screamed in agony at him, but he simply threw his backpack into the passenger seat, and strapped himself in. He double checked that he had his shotguns all lined up, and his registration proudly on display.

He backed out of his driveway, barely giving the house a glance from his rearview mirror. It was much like everything else that Cold gave him—old, rickety, and falling apart. Though, he supposed the things weren’t that old when he’d been given them. The jeep, for instance, had been a rather shitty old thing from the eighties, but its extended stay so close to the desert had given it its current appearance.

The house had once been painted a bright, cheery yellow, with white windows, and a little picket fence that wrapped nicely around it. It had fallen to disrepair shortly thereafter. The fence now leaned on its side, like an old man on his cane—the house itself had several holes where it was clear Piccolo had stuffed rags in from the inside, and the windows shuddered with each gust of wind. His house was a rather large eyesore for the suburb that it sat right next to, and he was certain that the brand-new house beside him, with pristine, green grass was purposefully put there to mock him.

His face remained neutral as he continued his ride out into the desert, all thoughts of his shit house behind him. It had been his since he was a child, and he supposed he couldn’t complain. Sand rolled past him as he finally left the main road, and peeled out into the dunes. His shitty jeep was fighting to keep upright as he rode. Once he’d lost sight of the road, he dug around in his console and pulled out a long map, which he pressed against his steering wheel as he went.

As bad as the jeep was, times like this made him happy Rustbucket was so old—without power steering, there was no over correcting as he maneuvered his map into place, and began studying the X’s placed all over the parchment’s surface. He made a sharp right by a familiar boulder, and continued onwards for what he estimated to be ten minutes.

His tape player had gone out a year or so ago—with a metric ton of sand trapped in it that seemed to have a never-ending source that he couldn’t stop. He’d eventually given it up, and had since grown accustomed to listening to the clanks and bangs that Rustbucket was so fond of making. The howl of the wind added for alternating percussions, as projectiles hit the side of his jeep, and over-all Piccolo had enough to keep his ears and mind busy to not miss the music all that much.

He was finally able to come to a stop as he saw smoldering wreckage in front of him. He grinned, grabbed some goggles from his backseat, and popped them into place.

* * *

“There was nothing there,” Piccolo growled. He was rather disappointed, and leaned back in his office chair. The thing creaked dangerously underneath him, but didn’t give out on him. He kicked an apple core that happened to be too close to him, while his fingers drummed heavily against his desk. Or, not a desk—merely an old bookcase that he’d cut in half and repurposed.

“What was the burning pile of rubbish then?” the voice on the other end was high pitched and nasally—a voice that Piccolo had learned to hate extensively over the years. Freeza was General Cold’s son: A Royal Pain in the Ass. The twerp had moved his way up through the ranks when Piccolo was younger, so Piccolo thought he would eventually move away from operating his father’s phone. Unfortunately, that was not the case.

“I told you, it was some kid’s drone,” Piccolo glared at the offensive thing. He’d retrieved it from the sand, and had been severely disappointed at its discovery. The hunk of junk had apparently been flying around, when a severe wind had crushed it into the ground. He’d managed to locate the owner—some pimply fourteen-year-old that had immediately tried to hide when Piccolo went banging on his door.

Piccolo could practically hear a sneer on the other side. “Ah, yes. I suppose that would explain the rather furious woman my father had to deal with on the phone.”

Piccolo wanted to throw the phone. If he’d already known that Piccolo had confronted the people—why bother with the rudeness or the skepticism? 

“Was there anything else you needed, Freeza?”

“That’s Colonel Freeza,” was the waspish response, “but no… I suppose that’s all I need. Daddy will handle your social faux pas, but I was told to remind you that your existence is only mildly tolerated in that specific suburb due to him paying handsomely for your position there. It would do you some good to avoid the rest of civilization, and to hide our ugly green mug from normal humans.”

The call was cut off rather abruptly, leaving Piccolo staring furiously at his phone. It was a constant bur in his side that Freeza threw out insults like that, and Piccolo was unable to respond in kind. He’d never had the  _ pleasure  _ of meeting Cold and his brood face to face.

He gritted his teeth, and rose from the chair he’d been occupying. He knew this meant he also would be shorted on his weekly stipend for not actually having located anything this time—as it was unlikely that he would find a spacecraft tonight that he could salvage. 

Piccolo grabbed a dusty apple from the counter, and gave it a miserable bite. He hated the desert. Hated the way that sand worked its way inevitably into every part of his life. Even his food was riddled with it. After twenty some odd years he supposed he should be used to it, but it never really agreed with him. He couldn’t wait to get out of this godforsaken place. —Potentially, of Earth entirely.

He looked at the one personal decoration that he had in his ratty house. It was a single cube, with a holographic image that rotated non-stop. Even when he cut the lights off, and laid down on his bed, the green glow cast across his ill-features every night. The image of his father, the one man that could get him out of his miserable conditions.

And he was going to find him.

But, fate worked against him. In the following week, he had two calls that got him absolutely nowhere. His checks were going to be incredibly shortened, and the gas he kept having to waste to make his way out in the desert everyday was taking its toll. As reliable as Rustbucket was, the monstrosity guzzled gas like it wasn’t an irreplaceable fuel.

One of the calls he’d received, had been some old drunk claiming to have seen a UFO. When Piccolo arrived on the scene, however, he’d been dismayed to have an elderly human vomit profusely on him, cry, and accuse Piccolo of anally probing him all simultaneously. He’d hurriedly left the scene before cops were involved and he had Cold’s wrath on him once more.

The second call was someone claiming that their cow had been stolen by extraterrestrials, but that merely led to Piccolo chasing a cow around the desert in insane heat (bearing a bowl of broccoli which the owner assured him was the cow’s favorite). When he’d finally caught the bovine escapee, he’d been less than thrilled to find out the cow had absolutely no symptoms of being tampered with. He’d gone home feeling slightly used, and with absolutely nothing to report.

Then—there was the fact that Piccolo was quite certain he was receiving a new neighbor. Moving trucks had appeared outside. The house beside him had been unoccupied since it was built, and he’d hoped it would stay that way. Due to his mere presence, this was a very exclusive neighborhood to get into. There was an asinine amount of paperwork to go through if one wanted to live in this area, and plenty of legal tape to hold anyone that left in place. All his neighbors thus far had completely avoided him, just as he liked it.

He just hoped this new one was just as smart.

And, for the first few days, it certainly seemed like his neighbor was just that. 

Piccolo was packing up his truck, and was rather ecstatic. He hadn’t received a call, but he himself had seen a strange object floating through the night sky. The strange blips and colors led him to believe that he was actually onto something this time. If not for the low temperatures being rather dangerous to his species (a lesson he’d learned unfortunately in his youth) he would have headed out the moment he’d seen it from his window.

Now he was completely prepared. He peeled out of his driveway, and out into the desert, marking carefully on his map the trajectory he was certain the UFO had taken. He was intent upon getting there, and barely bothered to lift his eyes to the sand dunes. He finally saw a smoke plume in the distance and sped up. 

At about twenty feet from the wreckage, Piccolo felt a grin overtaking his face. He hit the brakes, and grabbed his goggles. His map was thrown haphazardly over his shoulder as he popped his eyewear into place. His shotgun was soon in hand as he slithered out of his seat, and carefully rounded Rustbucket.

In front of him was a bona fide alien space craft. 

The ship was sleek and smooth, with bubbled windows, and lights that flickered in spastic patterns. Smoke and heat rose from the wreckage as Piccolo drew closer, his shotgun pressed firmly against his shoulder. He shifted through the sand, his black boots just barely maintaining leverage on the surface as he came up to the hulking silver craft.

He punched the ship’s panel, thankful of his protective gloves as sparks were spit back at him. The door slid open with a hiss, and a strange smell filled the air. Piccolo grimaced, and moved a bit closer, careful to keep his mouth shut tight as he clambered up the steps. Inside was a long hall, where he could already see corpses that lay sprawled out across the walls.

The ship had crashed on its side, leaving everything leaning to the right. Hologram chips, strange food, and miscellaneous blasters were all scattered around Piccolo’s feet. He made sure to step over them, treading lightly as to not alert anything that might still be alive on board. 

He came upon a door, and gave it a sharp kick, sending it flying down. He grabbed the edge of the doorway and swung himself into the room. His feet dangled precariously, before he could drop himself and his gun down into the room. He saw that computers had all been upended, and saw a body motionless on the ground.

Piccolo was shocked. This was the first ship that had survived a crash so intact that he had been able to actually see a working control room. He could see coordinates for space flashing on the screen, as well as several warning messages that had obviously come a little too late. He lowered his gun, and scooted towards the computer. Cold would want this entire ship—the thing was a gold mine for the government to use for their explorations. And, they could give it Piccolo once they were through, or completely craft a new one!

His luck was turning around!

Something cold, wet, and slimy wrapped around Piccolo’s free arm, and he sighed.

Of course, it wasn’t.

He spun quickly, and shot the alien in the head. The thing practically absorbed the bullet, and slowly began to rise to its full height. The creature rose several feet above Piccolo, and shook slime from its body. Its skin was nothing but pustules, and it had absolutely no face. It was merely a gelatinous blob with tentacles, and a rather protruding beak in the middle of its body.

It screeched—an attempt at some form of communication—but Piccolo shot once more. He kicked his left foot up, and managed to get it stuck to the tentacle anchoring him in place.

“Fuck…” Piccolo looked desperately around for something, before he realized that the alien wasn’t even attacking him. The creature had turned its back to Piccolo, and instead was focused on the computers. Piccolo took that time to try and pull himself free from the thing’s grasp, but was completely unsuccessful. His attempts were interrupted, however, as the alien smacked a large red button, which immediately sent sirens blaring.

Piccolo practically keeled over, the loud sound piercing his skull. Before he could hit the ground, though, the alien punched a hole through its own ship, reeled back, and sent Piccolo flying back out into the bright sunlight. Piccolo was flipped entirely upside down as he went spiraling through the gritty air, before he hit a sand dune and was promptly buried under the hot grains.

He lay there for a moment, before he heard a distant boom. He then struggled back to the surface, and spat sand in every direction. He cricked his neck back, just to see fiery shrapnel raining out into the desert—and once more all of his hopes and dreams of leaving Earth being dashed.

Defeated, Piccolo felt his shoulder slump forward. He remained there for at least ten minutes, before he finally dragged himself out of the sand. It was then that he realized that the alien’s slime had left him with an unfortunate coating, and he was now thoroughly caked.

Piccolo cursed and kicked at nothing, before he finally got up, and did the rest of his job—retrieval. He went to Rustbucket, and dug out his trash bags, along with a pooper scooper he’d bought online. The thing came in rather handy, since Cold’s people didn’t like him touching the alien samples. He managed to gather up all the burnt body parts into one bag, before he got to work on collecting the spaceship parts. Most of the pieces would go to Cold for research purposes, but many of the smaller things Piccolo was allowed to keep. The majority of this ship would probably be his, as they’d already had one of this model crash prior. Those aliens had been birdlike creatures, however, and not slimy freaks that chucked him halfway across the planet.

He went through, and attempted to gather as much as he could. When he was finally done, he headed back into town. The pieces rattled around in the back, and he was still dripping slime into his cloth seats, but he was rather happy that he’d come across that ship. As much of a pain as it had been, it meant he’d get some money this week—and he’d had his eye on a leather jacket he’d seen online. His current one was beginning to show wear and tear from his occupation.

Especially if he came into contact with anymore slime.

He pulled into his driveway, and kicked open Rustbucket’s door. He slid out of his seat, and immediately yelped. A stranger was in his driveway. He whipped his gun up, the muzzle level with their forehead as he went into a defensive pose.

“Firearms are  _ not _ permitted in this area!” the stranger snapped, and Piccolo realized it was a woman. He quickly pulled the gun back, his jaw tightening as he stared her down.

“Are you insane?” he snarled. “I could have shot you!”

“Not likely.” The woman sniffed. Her eyes narrowed into slits as she tilted her head back, and regarded him with disdain. “So… you really are an alien…”

Piccolo felt distaste bubble up in the back of his throat. “No, shit, you got to see the freak show. Anything else I can help you with?”

“You can start by not using profanity!” she barked, and Piccolo sneered.

“Why the hell not?”

“Because I don’t want my son hearing that!”

“Your—is that a kid on your back?” Piccolo stepped back, his elbows bumping Rustbucket. He got a good look at the woman. She was short, with wide hips, and a powerful frame resting on her. Her eyes were almost as black as her hair, that was cut simply with bangs. She wore plain clothes—a green blouse and khakis, along with sensible flats, where Piccolo could see another pair of shoes dangling just behind her.

“That kid looks big enough to be twelve!” Piccolo balked. The woman had her kid in one of the backpack holsters—except the child was significantly Too Old to be in one.

“I’m actually nine!” A timid voice piped up. “But it’s real nice to meet you, mister.” Piccolo crinkled his brow, while the woman merely focused back in on him.

“That’s sweet Gohan, but mommy’s gotta focus now.” She jabbed a finger towards Piccolo, and he actually felt himself flinch back from it. “You, mister, are the whole reason I had to sit through eight thousand pages of legal mumbo-jumbo!”

“It’s actually eight thousand and one,” Piccolo sneered. “That last page is strictly for signatures, though.”

The woman’s nostrils flared in a very unattractive way. “ _ Not _ the point!” She took a step, and her little sensible flat kicked up enough dirt to swirl its way up into Piccolo’s sinuses. “Now, mister, I don’t know how things went before I moved in here—but I believe in a good community, first and foremost!  And good communities don’t have dirt yards, rusty pick-up trucks, and guns!” She stared at each offensive item as she ticked them off, and Piccolo felt his aggravation mounting once more.

“Woman, I’ve lived here a hell of a lot longer then you have,” he snapped, “and nobody’s ever complained before.”

“Well,” she leaned back, a rather imperious smirk on her face. “We’ll see about that. I suggest you shape up without ulterior motives. I’ll not have my baby in the same neighborhood as an extraterrestrial thug.”

“Thug—?” Piccolo broke off his words. His jaw snapped hard enough for seismic activity as he glowered at the woman. This was incredible! Ridiculous! “You’re the one trespassing,” he finally spat. 

She frowned, but didn’t back down. “Just make sure you clean your act up.” She turned sharply on her heel, and Piccolo was finally face to face with the kid. He looked the spitting image of his mother—just with a hideous bowl cut smacked down on his skull. He gave a cheerful little wave at Piccolo, who in turn bared his fangs.

With those two gone, Piccolo was left in peace to handle the remains of the alien.

He hadn’t taken the woman’s words to heart—not really, anyways. He’d mostly shrugged her off as being a crack-pot neighbor that talked big but never did anything. She wouldn’t have been the first. Piccolo had had one man move in, who had decided that Piccolo was going to  _ plunder _ his wife. Outraged at the very idea, the man stormed up to Piccolo’s door, got an impromptu nose job from a well-aimed can of soup, and had promptly disappeared from Piccolo’s life. He didn’t know if the man even still lived in the neighborhood.

So, naturally, when his new neighbor had come at him, Piccolo scoffed, and took it in stride. He’d already shown her he was larger, and armed—he figured that would be the end of it.

He realized  _ how  _ wrong he’d been, exactly, when he left the house one morning to find a flyer had been taped to his door. He stared, blankly, at the paper.

**NEIGHBORHOOD MEETING**

**To celebrate our community, everyone is invited to attend**

**an informal cook-out, held at the local recreation building.**

**Visitors are encouraged—but not required—to bring fun,**

**food, and family!**

“Heya, mister!”

Piccolo jumped, and dropped the paper to the ground as he whirled about to the sound of the voice. He glared at where his rickety fence now had a much nicer little white picket to put it to shame. But just above the fresh white paint was a little boy’s happy face, chubby cheeks turned up. 

It was Bowl-cut.

Piccolo attempted to ignore the kid and head out to his truck, but the child was apparently insistent.

“Heya, mister! Did you read the paper?” Bowl-cut appeared to be bouncing on his toes. He could just barely peer over the fence into Piccolo’s yard, and Piccolo had to debate whether a kick would crush the kid’s face—or merely discourage him.

He contemplated this while Bowl-cut started up again.

“I hope you liked it! I typed it up and everything—really! I’m good at typing! Best in my class—or, my old class, really… I don’t know about this new school yet…” Bowl-cut’s enthusiasm faded for just a moment. Piccolo stared at the child, willing a spacecraft to land, right now, on the dumb kid’s turned up nose.

Unfortunately, no alien was forthcoming. The damned things had a penchant for desert that Piccolo would never understand. It was hell out there. Though, he supposed it was hell here too, what with weird kids accosting you.

“So, you gonna come?”

Piccolo frowned. Come to what? —that shit from the paper? Was the kid insane? He didn’t  _ attend _ community functions. In fact, he wasn’t even sure they had any. It was one-hundred percent possible that they did, and nobody ever thought to invite Piccolo. He certainly wasn’t asking them to do so. But if the kid had typed it up, he could only assume that the woman from before was behind this.

“I’m not,” Piccolo snarled, “going to any stupid community meetups. I got shit to do.” He crunched through the dirt and sand all the way to Rustbucket. He saw Bowl-cut practically wilt. Piccolo cranked Rustbucket up to life, and backed out of his driveway. It was then that he saw the kid was leashed into the yard—one of those weird backpack deals tied up to a post.

Piccolo stared, and for one teeny, tiny, insignificant moment wondered if he felt bad for the kid. Then, Piccolo promptly reminded himself that the kid and his mom could wrap their mouths around a car’s tail pipe for all he cared, and then he sped off into the desert.

All thoughts of the kid, and his obnoxious new neighbor, left his mind for the few hours that he was out in the desert. As much as he hated the place, he found himself relaxing as he trudged through as much ground as he could cover. When he finally did head back home, he was rudely awakened from his peaceful day, as the woman stood on the sidewalk, directly in between their lines of property.

He pulled in, resisted the urge to roll his eyes, and actually braked for the damned woman. He didn’t know why—but he paused, and passed her a rather dry glance.

“Gohan said you weren’t interested in coming to the meetings.”

Of course. Bowl-cut snitched on him. “I’m not.” Piccolo repeated himself for the second time that day. He wasn’t used to having to talk to people, and he was finding all of this very trying for his nerves. The most he ever spoke to anyone was General Cold and Freeza, and those two were mostly bland reports about what he was doing out here, and why they should continue to maintain him.

“You really need to come. A lot of the discussions we plan on having are going to directly involve you, and problems in the neighborhood that you are attributing to.” She stared him down, her tiny black eyes boring into his skull.

Piccolo curled his upper lip. “I’ve got a job to do, and I have no interest in playing neighbors with the pathetic people here.”

The bridge of the woman’s nose flushed in aggravation. “That’s a horrible attitude to have!” She snapped.

“I’m not the one tying my brat up in the yard,” Piccolo retorted.

“That is  _ none  _ of your business, and I’ll have you know it’s to keep him safe! Now,” that damned index finger rose up and pointed at him, “you  _ need _ to come to this meeting!”

“I don’t  _ need _ to do anything.” Piccolo reached his hand angrily into his glove department box, where he grabbed hold of some papers. He stuffed them out of his truck, meeting the woman’s finger midway. “You see this here?” He gesticulated with the papers. “This is my legal documentation. I’m a free alien—a legal alien—and you can’t do shit about that. You got that?”

Of course, he could not have been more wrong.

He’d hit his gas pedal then, and had gone tearing up the dirt to his house. He could see the woman was still standing there, brain kicking into overdrive at the rude way he treated her. He couldn’t care less, though—the way he saw it, the woman was being a nuisance to him, and not the other way around.

His behavior soon backfired, however, as he flopped down on the couch, his boots kicked off, just as his phone rang. He groaned, rolled his eyes up towards the sky, and stomped his way over to the clamoring device. He picked it up, and as soon as the cold plastic pressed against the shell of his ear, he was immediately accosted.

“I don’t know what the hell you’re doing over there,” Freeza’s high-pitched voice screeched through the receiver, “but my father is currently being hounded by some inane woman!” If Piccolo strained his ears hard enough, he could just make out General Cold’s own voice. It sounded a tad bit frantic. “She claims she’s your neighbor - what the hell are you doing to her?!”

“I haven’t done anything,” Piccolo protested. His fangs clicked together, and he hoped Freeza could hear it. “She keeps hounding me about being a neighbor, and wants me to go to this cookout.” He shifted in his seat, to better shrug his jacket off, as Freeza tore back into him.

“I don’t give a damn what the inane woman wants - just give it to her! If daddy is interrupted by her one more time, it’ll be your head we’re after! Need I remind you that your situation is perilous as is? You are not to draw this much attention to yourself!” Freeza’s voice managed to sound simultaneously like a hiss and a scream all in one, and Piccolo really wondered how he did that.

“Won’t it be drawing attention to myself if I go to a cookout with a bunch of people around?” Piccolo argued. He wasn’t giving this up without a fight. 

“The people know you exist,” Freeza said. “They’re just… not used to your unfortunate appearance.”

_ Unnecessary _ , Piccolo thought to himself.

“Regardless,” Freeza continued, “we’re sick of hearing her loud mouth. You are going to do what she wants from here on out, or else we’ll cut our funding.”

Piccolo’s mouth puckered inwards as his brows drew down. He tried not to make any audible noise of the hatred that bubbled in his stomach, but he found it increasingly hard to clamp down on it. 

“Well then, too-da-loo.” Freeza’s voice cut out of existence, and Piccolo was left staring angrily at his phone.

* * *

Piccolo’s attendance at the meeting had been made mandatory, but he certainly wasn’t going to enjoy the time that he had to spend there. He purposefully strapped his gun on to his hip where it would be visible, pulled on his dirtiest, oldest pair of boots, and intentionally flapped his shirt in the sand that had collected on his living room floor - in spite of his best efforts. Now it aided his scruffy look as he stomped out of his house and slammed the door.

He honestly couldn’t remember the last time he’d made a public appearance in front of humans, but he supposed it would be all right. Freeza had assured him, after all, that everyone who moved into this community had to sign a phenomenal amount of paperwork, and that attending this meeting was mandatory. He didn’t know what the diminutive woman had said to actually rally Freeza and Cold into acquiescing to her, but he supposed it was none of his business. It didn’t matter what she’d said, after all - all that mattered was that he was being forced into this stupid mess.

He wasn’t familiar with town, but as far as he knew there was only one strip of actual road in this entire area. He knew there was a grocery market past the horizon of houses, and he assumed that somewhere in that direction, a recreation center existed. 

He climbed into Rustbucket, and felt the metal beast rock beneath him. He turned the key in the ignition, and it roared to life. He cruised down the road, always startled at the rather asinine amount of green grass that flared to life outside of his little hell-pocket of a house. He didn’t know what it was about his home - perhaps it was him? - but there was something about that completely and utterly deterred any form of growth. He’d thought, once, that he’d seen a dandelion growing out by his fence. It was, however, merely a space pod that injected itself into the ground which Piccolo had quickly squashed, too aggravated that it was far too small to salvage any pieces from.

Houses rolled by him in an unrecognizable blur, along with a gas station (which he didn’t need to use, as Cold sent him his own gasoline) a few grocery stores, and a few little locally owned shops. Piccolo knew none of these, and did most of his shopping online, or was simply sent it through the Colds’ network. 

He finally arrived at the recreation center, or, what he assumed was the recreation center. It was a rather large, nondescript parking lot, with several picnic tables dispersed beneath a giant stone awning, with a huge banner spread from one concrete column to another. Several cars were already in the parking lot, and Piccolo could see people milling about. Piccolo parked Rustbucket far away from everyone else’s vehicles, just out of pure spite. He pulled the keys out of the ignition, and attempted to mentally prepare himself.

He got out and headed over towards the recreation center, his shoes crunching through sand and what pitiful amount of grass managed to grow out here. Off to the side of the pavilion, he could see a rather decrepit looking playground which a few kids were hanging off of. He couldn’t see Bowlcut over there, but it soon became apparent  _ why _ , as he was currently riding on his mother’s back again. He looked rather distressed, and kept glancing wistfully over to the other children, but the woman seemed to pay no mind.

His neighbor was busy greeting people, handing out little flyers to everyone that approached her. They were all talking about inane things, and Piccolo was able to walk up to stand underneath the awning before anyone even noticed him.

The shock on their faces almost made attending the stupid meeting worth it. A few wives had been placing dishes out for others to get a hold of, while a few more people still were standing at the public grills. They all turned to face him, almost completely dropping everything they were doing to stop and stare. What had started out funny had officially become rather nerve-wracking and annoying. 

The only person who didn’t seem startled was his neighbor.

She turned fiery eyes on him, and shoved a flyer in his direction. 

“Here you go. A bullet point list of the topics we’ll be discussing today over everyone’s meal.”

Piccolo glowered at the paper in his hand.

**A Better Community:**

**How we’ll achieve it**

***A discussion over how grass length directly**

**affects youth’s ability to study**

***A friendly neighborhood is a happy one**

***How communities affect their children**

***Microwave radiation and how it affects**

**your child’s grey matter**

Piccolo stopped reading at that point, and simply stared, stupefied.

“Lady, are you fucking nuts?”

“Bullet point fifteen expressly states that we’re here to discuss how cursing affects our children and their ability to handle confrontation appropriately,” the woman hissed at him.

“I didn’t read that far down,” Piccolo replied, crumpling up the paper. He dropped it to the ground.

“I can  _ tell _ !” she snapped, and stooped down to pick up his paper. She clenched in her fist, and pointed dramatically up at Piccolo. “Don’t you know littering is bad for the environment? You could ruin this ecosystem around here!”

“We live in a desert,” Piccolo snorted. “And let me guess - pollution affects how your kid studies, or something?”

“As a matter of  _ fact _ \- ,”

“Ms. Chi Chi!” A young, bald police officer made his way over, a smile on his face. “Please, I was telling one of my work buddies about how you intended to talk about the police force, and really, we take it as a great honor!” The officer gave Piccolo a nervous look out of the side of his eye, but said nothing.

“Of course.” His neighbor -  _ Chi Chi _ \- puffed her chest out. “A strong police force means that the streets our safer for our kids.” She smiled, then, but when she turned to Piccolo it became malicious once more. “Of course,  _ some _ of us actually care about our future.”

Piccolo flipped her the bird, and ignored the agitated screech that came after him. He stuffed his hands in his jacket pocket, and took a seat at one of the stone picnic tables. All of the other people gave him a wide berth, and continued talking about the points that Chi Chi planned to bring up today.

He was able to enjoy a relative silence until Chi Chi and the police officer happened to approach a table near him, where all the people immediately began talking quite loudly about the topics at hand.

“We have such a big problem with the UFO’s that come around here,” a woman complained, tossing her hair over her shoulder. 

“Well, they’re not UFO’s,” the bald officer corrected. “They’re identified.” He rubbed at the back of his sweat-slicked head. “Unfortunately, no one really knows why they always land here, so there’s not much we can do about it.”

A man at the table spoke in an obnoxiously loud whisper, “But, couldn’t they be landing here because… you know?”

Piccolo frowned, because he could feel gazes burning into the back of his shoulder. Like hell it was his fault! Half the aliens that landed here only did it because of how deserted the… well, desert was!

“I think it’s more due to how much empty space there is.” Chi Chi said this, and Piccolo was startled to hear something somewhat sane come out of her mouth. “Plenty of area for a spaceship to land.” He could hear disapproval in her voice, as if she wanted nothing more than to approach a flying saucer and tell it off for inconveniencing her child’s independent reading time.

“Either way, it’s a wonder I can even feel safe! I’ve tried to move so many times, but…” The woman’s voice faded away for a moment, as if she’d suddenly forgotten how to speak. When she finally did find her voice, she sounded a bit dazed. “Oh, it just never works out for me… you know the house market.”

“It’s definitely cheaper out here,” Chi Chi conceded. “Oh, I’d better get up to the front. I should prepare the presentation.” She walked off then, and Piccolo turned around in time to see Bowlcut’s heels dragging in the sand as Chi Chi made her way to the front of the pavilion. She cleared her throat, and when she spoke, her voice was so loud she didn’t even need a megaphone.

“Hello, people of Barren Grove, today we’re here to discuss many topics, and we’ll start with bullet point one. Grass, and the affect it has on your child’s psyche and ability to grow! As stated in  _ Minute Things for Child Growth _ , by Harrold Hoggson, a pleasant look is necessary for a pleasant mind, and in this book he discusses - ,”

A droning sound had started overhead. At first, Piccolo assumed it was his brain attempting to tune out everything stupid that Chi Chi was saying, but as he saw other people reacting as well, he realized that no, in fact, there was a loud thrumming noise coming from up in the sky - to the point where now no one could hear Chi Chi speak.

Piccolo stood, and moved out from under the pavilion, just in time to watch a giant alien ship, shaped like a saucer, to land directly in the parking lot. Right on top of Rustbucket.

Piccolo felt as if he’d been stabbed, and stared dismally at the where his faithful companion used to be. Everyone else’s cars were perfectly safe on the other side of the lot, and the sun twinkling off their roofs seemed to mock him.

He hadn’t realized he’d slid to his knees until Chi Chi had stormed up next to him, her hands balled up into fists. She’d left Bowlcut back at the pavilion, tied up to one of the pillars.

“The hell do they think they are?!” he heard her shout over the drone of the ship. He thought about telling her to fuck off, that he had this - but then he remembered his gun was in his currently deceased truck. He felt sorrow bubble in his stomach once more, chased by firey, red hot, rage.

He rose to his feet beside Chi Chi, just as the ship shut off, and an eerie silence fell up on the congregation of people. He could hear parents gathering up children, pulling them off the playground and clinging to their little ones. He expected Chi Chi to run back as soon as the ship’s door hissed open, and a giant ramp extended from it, but he was surprised - and impressed - when she held her ground.

A silhouette formed at the top of the ramp, and a humanoid alien emerged from within. Piccolo actually froze - he’d never seen an alien look so similar to humans before. The alien looked as if it were an earthling male, except with large, towering black spikes of hair, and a tail that lashed the air behind him.

The alien took several steps forward, and his white boots clicked against the metal. His tail trailed lazily behind him as he hoisted his chin high to regard them all. The humans behind Piccolo gave out cries of alarm and shrank back. But, just as Piccolo was prepared to run forward and fight, another figure emerged from the ship, stuck a taser to the back of the alien’s neck, and completely incapacitated the creature.

As the alien slumped to the ground, everyone had a clear view of the person standing behind him.

It was a woman in low-slung cargo pants, a crop-top, and plenty of blue hair that spilled wildly down her back. She had big blue eyes, and a wide, crimson smile that Piccolo could see even at this distance. She popped her hip out, placed one fist on it, and idly spun the taser around with her index finger. 

“Hiya,” she called, and much like Chi Chi, the woman didn’t need a megaphone to be heard. “Sorry to drop in like this, but I’m Bulma Briefs, and I’ll be living here now.”

There was a great rise of noise and whispers from behind Piccolo and Chi Chi (who he noted was still on guard), and the people seemed to rouse themselves from their scared stupors.

Bulma Briefs stepped carefully over the alien she’d downed, and came swaying down the ramp, until she touched down softly on sand. She glanced upwards, the wind kicking up her wild spray of hair - and she noticed Piccolo for the first time.

She stared at him, and Piccolo only had one moment to dodge out of the way as the woman had dropped her taser in the sand, and had snatched a pistol out of one of her pockets. She leveled it at Piccolo.

“What are you doing?!” It was, surprisingly, Chi Chi who had spoken up. Her brown eyes practically shot fire as she stepped in front of Bulma’s gun.

Bulma glanced quickly between Chi Chi and Piccolo, before she slowly lowered her gun.

“That thing… you know it?”

“That  _ thing _ lives here, you twat,” Piccolo griped.

Bulma furrowed her brow. “What…? But, how?”

“He’s paid for by the government or something,” Chi Chi replied for him. “But you should know this… didn’t you sign off on all the paperwork before moving in here?”

Bulma frowned. “Paperwork…?” Something seemed to light in her eyes, however, as she smoothed over her features. “You know what,” she laughed, but it sounded incredibly fake, “of course! I completely forgot.” She mimicked a  _ duh! _ sound, and lightly tapped her forehead. “Guess I got distracted, what with the alien and all.” Very slyly, she slid closer to the gathered crowd. “I managed to track him, sneak aboard his spaceship, and followed him here.”

There was immediately a flurry of excitement, and people crowded around her. Chi Chi tried, unsuccessfully, to remind the crowd of their flyers and all the bullet points they had to get through. Nobody seemed interested in listening, however, as Bulma was recounting her valiant tale to get aboard the alien’s ship.

Piccolo frowned, and stood off to the side. He glowered up at the unconscious form of the alien. He’d like to get ahold of that ship - after all, it was still  _ functioning _ ! This could be the lucky break he’d been looking for! In his thinking, he hadn’t realized that he’d drawn closer to Bowlcut, who was still tied up to a pillar.

“Don’t you think it’s odd?” Bowlcut whispered. “That she’s not paying attention to him at all… She tried to cover it up, too, but she didn’t know about you.” The kid turned large eyes up towards Piccolo. “Hey, mister? You know she’s lying, right?”

Piccolo nodded, and crouched down beside the kid.

“If that ramp’s the only way onto that ship,” Piccolo muttered - which he was certain it was, if he could guess anything by the design of it, “then there’s no way in hell she snuck on board.”

Bowlcut looked reproachful about the use of a curse word, but he seemed to stifle it in favor of talking to Piccolo. “How come she’s here, then?”

Piccolo shrugged. Then he realized he was talking to a damn kid about this. 

“All right, you better buzz off. If your mom sees you talking to me she’ll be pissed.” Piccolo sneered, and Bowlcut actually gave a solemn nod.

“Guess you’re right, there, mister. But hey, sorry about your truck.”

_ Rustbucket _ ! In all the bedlam, Piccolo had momentarily forgotten that his truck had been annihilated. He stared, heartbroken, at the alien ship. Not that it mattered much. All he had to do was get into the space ship, and he’d be golden anyways. The truck was only a necessity (or so he told himself) to get in and around the desert. 

Chi Chi approached him, and he expected to hear an ear full about being near her precious baby but, to his surprise, she kicked at some sand, and glowered in Bulma’s direction.

“That woman just showed up, ruined the meeting, and was carrying a firearm…” Chi Chi gritted her teeth together, and her eyebrows furrowed. “Though… why’d she tase that one alien, and try to shoot you?”

Piccolo blinked. That… was actually a good question. All he could offer was a shrug. None of this matter if he could just get on that ship…

Bulma Briefs suddenly extricated herself from the crowd, and headed back over to the ship. 

“Well, I must be off now! It was a pleasure to meet all of you!” She was smiling, and stomped her way up the metal ramp - pausing only to grab the strange alien by the scruff and drag him back up into the spacecraft. Then the ramp slid back up and away, the ship kicked on with a loud hum, and rose back up into the air.

“Definitely strange,” Bowlcut said. Chi Chi nodded, a pensive look on her features.

“She took the spaceship,” Piccolo groaned. He dropped his head in his hands - with the Briefs woman having left, the carnage of Rustbucket was now completely visible. Bowlcut gave him a soft, consoling pat. Piccolo stared blankly at the little boy’s tiny hand.

“Your truck…” Chi Chi seemed to have just noticed what had happened. Something seemed to struggle on her face for a moment - some internal conflict - before she let out a deep sigh. “Whenever the meeting is done….” The words sounded as if they hurt her. “... I can drive you home.”

Piccolo frowned. “Fine…”

It turns out, Piccolo didn’t have to wait too long. He sat in the sand next to Bowl-cut (who apparently had a great interest in space ships and was talking animatedly to Piccolo about them) as Chi Chi ran back over to the gathering of people, still abuzz with Bulma’s surprise entrance. The excitement about her crash landing made it impossible for everyone else to settle down, and Chi Chi was unable to continue her lectures about posterity. 

People began to filter out, and Chi Chi was left fuming amidst plenty of trash for her to clean up. Piccolo was in the middle of explaining a Type A funnel ship and their tendency to blow up if you touched the door, Chi Chi stomped over, and pressed her fists to her hips.

“You want a ride, you’re helping me clean up.” She said this forcefully, but her angry gaze didn’t even fall on his face, and instead stared off into some distant area to the left. “I can’t believe these people!”

“What are you surprised about?” Piccolo grumbled, pushing himself up off the ground. “You really didn’t expect people to stick around and clean, did you?”

“Of course I did!” Chi Chi seemed affronted. Then, a sort of melancholy came across her features. “Well, bullet point thirty-five was about working better as a community to clean up our streets and it involved a ten-step program that we were going to implement.”

Piccolo shook his head. “Everyone was too distracted by that damn woman…” He sent a cursory glance to his faithful Rustbucket’s entrails. He could see shattered metal and pieces scattered in the parking lot.

“She can’t be trusted,” Bowl-cut muttered. “D’you think… maybe she’s an alien?”

Piccolo shrugged, but Chi Chi scoffed.

“I didn’t see any tails growing out of her backside. Just devil horns…” She muttered that last part, and shook her head angrily. “Gohan, baby, stay still while me and…” She looked at him, and tilted her head.

“Piccolo.”

She frowned. “What?”

“That’s my name,” he grunted. He hated that he could feel his ears burning under her scrutinizing gaze.

“You name yourself?”

Piccolo pursed his lips. “None of your business.” He turned, then, and began gathering up garbage. It was slow going, as Bowl-cut - Gohan - kept stopping him to ask inane questions. Like how his antennae worked, could he be sunburned, why were his ears so large, why was he green, and the like. Chi Chi didn’t reprimand him, and instead joined in as well, demanding to know where he was from, was he going to attend future meetings without her having to force him, and what his job was, exactly, because she didn’t quite understand.

Piccolo ignored most of their questions. And by most, he meant all. As far as he was concerned, none of these things were of importance to them. And they ought to learn to mind their business. The two of them together were quite a nuisance.

The sun was setting by the time he was done, and even though Piccolo was used to dealing with the desert and all of its trials, he found himself wore out. He supposed it was the mental strain of having two morons constantly pestering him who he was.

He clambered into Chi Chi’s car, and was hit by a strong, chill breeze. He shuddered, and stared in surprise at her vents. He’d completely forgotten about air conditioning, and reveled in it.

Chi Chi noticed where his attention lay, and arched her brow at him. 

“I take it that old truck didn’t have AC?”

“No,” he snorted. “Definitely not.”

She squinted at him. “Your species all right with the cold?”

Piccolo blinked. “Yes.” He was surprised that she’d thought to ask him.

“So, you can take heat, and cold?” Gohan asked eagerly from the backseat. Piccolo turned to look at the boy, and was unsurprised to see that Chi Chi still had the boy in a car seat.

“Can’t humans?” Piccolo replied, only slightly snotty, in his opinion. 

After that, Chi Chi pulled out of the parking lot, and drove them home. Piccolo got out of the car without a good-bye, or a thank-you. As far as he was concerned, he’d worked for that car ride. He quickly ran into his house, and allowed himself to mull over the recent developments.

A new woman had just landed (destroying his car in the process) with a spaceship, a strange alien, and who hadn’t known he existed… Well, he needed to call Freeza to get a new car anyways. Knowing his luck, Freeza would tell him to buy it with his own pocket money, but nevertheless, he could still ask about the newcomer to their neighborhood.

He turned sharply, and dialed the phone.

 


	2. Home Cooked Meal

Piccolo shut the door of his Honda Pilot, and glowered at the wheels. It was certainly no Rustbucket. The thing didn’t exactly guzzle gas, but it certainly wasn’t easy going on it. And the wheels were nowhere near as large, the pedal didn’t have to be pressed to the floorboard, and the brakes actually worked.

Piccolo hated it.

And he hated that the woman who’d ruined Rustbucket was now living fairly close, in a mansion that seemed to have popped up overnight. Bulma Briefs was now the talk of the town - not that Piccolo was participating in any of the talking. But his neighbor Chi Chi was, and she constantly lamented about it to him against his will.

When he walked to his car in the morning she was out there taking Gohan to school, and she’d often start on a long winded tirade that Piccolo never heard the end of, because he promptly shut his door in her face and drove off. In the evenings, when he returned home, Chi Chi was out front sweeping sand out of her grass and back into his yard, and she’d attempt to talk to him then, as well. At least until he was able to pull all of the pieces out of his car and head back into the house.

Unfortunately, he couldn’t completely tune out her voice, and did happen to pick up on a few things. Bulma was the new Thing around town, with everyone wanting her opinion on everything. She’d already dropped several fat donations everywhere, and was happily telling everyone about her family’s current communications with extraterrestrial lifeforms, and how she could easily keep everyone in the town safe.

“She’s asking about you,” Chi Chi said once, and that actually made Piccolo pause. He didn’t slam the door in her face, and instead turned to look at her. “I thought you should know.” She swiped a hand at what looked like a chocolate smudge on her nose. Her hands were full of what looked like cookie trays that she was probably taking to Gohan’s school.

“She wants to know why you’re here,” Gohan piped up from where he hung on his mother’s back.

“It’s none of her business.” Piccolo kept his voice flat. Inside, he was a bit nervous, though. The conversation that he’d had with Freeza a few weeks ago had not been reassuring. He’d assumed that Freeza or Cold would be able to sort everything with the Briefs woman out, but instead, they’d both sounded flabbergasted at a strange new person in Piccolo’s town. They’d warned him, in not so subtle tones, to stay as clear of Bulma as was possible.

Piccolo had mentioned that her spaceship had crash-landed onto his car, and they’d begrudgingly sent him a new one. Their interest had certainly been piqued by the fact that Bulma had her own fully functioning ship, but they had still warned against Piccolo interacting with her. He found that odd, as he’d never heard the Colds nervous before.

“Either way, you need to be careful.” Chi Chi drew her brows down over her dark eyes. “That woman isn’t to be trusted…”

Later in the day, when Gohan was home from school, and was tied up out in the yard, he’d confided in Piccolo.

“Momma really hates her,” he giggled, “because when asked to join the baking sale, that Bulma woman said that she only ate sugar-free products, and she said she was surprised momma didn’t know how bad chocolate was for kids.”

Piccolo was talking to the kid under the pretense of tinkering with his Pilot. He didn’t want Chi Chi to think he was bonding or making friends with them.

“It is a bit odd for your mom, isn’t it? To serve something that’s not completely nutritious.” Not that he wanted to know what Chi Chi did or didn’t do, but unfortunately the woman talked very loudly, and kept her windows open.

“She thought it would be fun.” Gohan dragged his finger around in the grass. “She’s not that bad, you know?”

“Seems pretty bad to me.” Piccolo muttered. Gohan didn’t reply, and he had the fleeting hope that he’d perhaps upset the kid into not talking to him anymore, when that was dashed by the kid’s voice piping up again.

“Hey, do you eat cereal?”

“What?” Piccolo almost smacked his head on the underneath of his car. He turned his head to glare at the kid. He didn’t look terribly imposing, he supposed, as he was an inch deep in sand, stuffed underneath a shitty SUV.

“Well,” Gohan began, looking a little nervous, “I just - well here’s the thing. There’s this real cool cereal that mom won’t buy me, cuz she says there’s red dye in it, but it’s this real cool cereal called Orbit-o’s! They’re shaped like aliens and UFO’s and stuff!” Piccolo felt mildly offended. “Anyway, they’re doing this thing, where you can collect all the pieces of the UFO in each box, and then you can assemble it yourself! Cool, huh?” He gave a big grin to Piccolo, which showed several missing teeth.

“Not really,” Piccolo muttered.

“Well,” Gohan only slightly deflated, “I was wondering if maybe you had some? I really want the UFO, y’see. I-I don’t have to eat the cereal!” Gohan assured him, hastily waving his hands about his nervous face. “Don’t worry about that! I just - I just really want the UFO…”

“Not my problem, kid,” Piccolo grumbled. “I don’t eat cereal, and I don’t have money to waste.”

“Oh.” Gohan’s voice was rather small, and he gave a swift nod. “Right. Of course. Sorry…” He shuffled a bit away on his tether, and Piccolo was relieved to go back to working on his Pilot. He tinkered away, at first grateful for the silence.

But then he realized that it was rather boring work, and now that it was silent, he was aware that he had a terrible crick in his neck. With a groan, Piccolo pushed himself out from beneath the Pilot, and tried to swipe at the oil that covered him. He’d left his shirt inside, and he was able to fully bask in the sun without it.

He closed his eyes, only cracking one open whenever Gohan remained silent. He appeared to be playing with a slug he’d found.

“You know how your mom feels about you playing with bugs,” Piccolo reprimanded. Another thing that he heard shouted rather often.

Gohan looked rather put out, just as Chi Chi came stomping down the porch steps, the door swung wide open behind her.

“Piccolo is quite right,” Chi Chi huffed, and Gohan hastily dropped the slug. “That thing could have diseases, or give you some horrible rash.” Her cheeks were slightly puffed out, as she glowered at a patch of grass. “Even if I am so terrible as to feed my kid chocolate once every four years…” She continued to grumble under her breath, as she unhooked Gohan’s leash, and unclipped him from the harness. “All right, head on inside, mister. It’s time for your reading.”

Gohan perked up, and quickly scrambled to his feet. He gave a hasty wave to Piccolo, before shooting up the porch. He only slowed when Chi Chi called a quick “no running!” after him.

“Heard about the cookies.” Piccolo grinned. He was happy to hear that Chi Chi was miserable about something.

She blew some air out, and planted her hands on her fat hips. “I’m pretty cheesed off about it,” she admitted. Piccolo grimaced. He hadn’t wanted her to confide in him! “It’s just…” she tilted her head, “Gohan finally made a friend at school. A little girl. And for once…” Chi Chi bit her lip, “I wanted him to feel like a normal kid.”

“Seems normal to me,” Piccolo muttered.

“Certainly not!” Chi Chi gave him an offended look. “He’s brilliant! A genius!”

“And he has a freak for a mom?” Piccolo supplied.

“As well as an alien neighbor.” Chi Chi said. She glanced at him. “You really shouldn’t be out in the sun without a shirt, you’ll get sun poisoning.”

“My species doesn’t get that.”

She actually gave him a curious look. “Oh? What are you?”

Piccolo shrugged. “Dunno. They ran a bunch of tests on me when I was freshly hatched. That’s all they know.” He grew uncomfortable, but luckily enough, Chi Chi didn’t seem to want to pry any further.

“Either way… that Bulma woman is a real pain in the neck.”

Piccolo had to agree, but he didn’t vocalize it, and Chi Chi went back inside. Piccolo moved to his backyard, where he could work on some of the ships that he kept out back. He sat sprawled out, with his tools all around him, listening to the brassy sounds of Chi Chi’s voice floating from her open window.

He didn’t go to sleep until he heard the window click shut. It signaled to him that it probably was rather late, and he retired to his house, where he sat in silence, his father’s hologram casting everything in a sickly glow.

He slept restlessly as usual, and was rather ecstatic when one of his machines buzzed, signifying extraterrestrial activity nearby. It had been a while since his last sighting, and he shot out of bed. It would be the first time he’d used the Pilot since he’d gotten it weeks ago. It had been a rather slow period, but he wasn’t going to waste his chance now. He had to get something, or else he’d have no money.

He threw on his leather jacket, stamped his feet hastily into boots, and took off. The Pilot surged over sand dunes, spewing grains up behind it as it trundled along. It was faster than Rustbucket, but unfortunately it didn’t have as good of a grip. The AC worked, but he didn’t turn it on. It felt like betraying Rustbucket’s memory.

He hit the brakes whenever his gadget beeped. He quickly grabbed his shotgun, slung it over his shoulder, and jumped out of the Pilot. He pushed his way through the heavy sand, and crested a rather large hill to see what lay beyond it. He was startled to see that someone had already beat him to the crash landing.

It wouldn’t be the first time that someone had showed up at a site out of curiosity. But what made Piccolo pause was the rather large, pearly white ship with two big blue C’s painted across it.

Piccolo hastily dropped to sand, and cursed as it caked its way into his mouth. He spit desperately, just as a gust of wind picked up, spraying him even more thoroughly. Giving up, he felt the grit in between his fangs as he hunkered down, watching what it was the Briefs woman was doing here.

Bulma was standing outside the ship, with a small, circular device in her palm. It blinked and beeped at intervals, but Piccolo couldn’t tell what it was. The large leather gloves she had on hid it, and Piccolo was surprised to see her outside of her usual fancy get up. Her hair was slung back in a desperate ball of curls, and she had no makeup on. She wore practical cargo shorts, large boots that were buried in sand, and a protective shawl around her very pale shoulders.

Piccolo went to stand up - he wasn’t particularly afraid of her, and he needed some of those parts - when he caught sight of something that made him drop back down to his hiding place.

The alien that Bulma had tazed was there, and he was approaching Bulma with a rather pulverized corpse in his hand. Whatever had been driving the ship was quite obviously dead. And from the looks of the thing, it was this alien that had done it.

“Anything, Vegeta?” Bulma’s voice was loud and clear, and Piccolo felt a shock run down his spine. She was in league with the thing. The Sons had been right.

Vegeta gave a dismissive grunt, and Piccolo was surprised to see that up close, he wasn’t nearly as human as he’d looked from high up in the ship. The alien - Vegeta - had a rather large underbite, with tusks that poked up, and rather large sideburns that puffed out and headed up into the spiky mane. He had some bristly fur that covered his face, and his brow was rather wrinkled.

“Damn… All right.” Bulma turned on her heel, and tapped desperately at the thing she was holding. “I could have sworn I finally had this thing calibrated!”

“Obviously not, woman,” Vegeta spoke imperiously.

Bulma glowered at him. “Shuttup, your royal dickhead.” She gave a defeated slump of her shoulders, and started trekking back to the ship. “You stripped it, right?”

“Everything has been removed,” Vegeta replied. He seemed to have no problem speaking around his tusks, though Piccolo couldn’t quite figure out how. He was still dragging the corpse behind him, and Bulma gave it a distasteful look as she put one leg in the ship.

“Please, Vegeta - throw that in the cargo area with everything else.”

“It’ll go ripe in there,” Vegeta protested.

“We’re going to be driving for five minutes!” Bulma’s exasperated voice rang out from inside the ship. Piccolo saw Vegeta make a mocking face, before slinging the body around to where Piccolo couldn’t see.

Once he’d deposited the body, Vegeta clambered up front to the cockpit. The machine began to whir, and Piccolo realized that once they ascended into the air, they’d certainly see him. In desperation, he dug down into the sand. He already had a mouthful, so he figured - fuck it! He managed to submerge himself, just as he heard the Capsule Corp ship lift up high into the air.

Piccolo shifted his arm just slightly, and was startled to bump his fingers against something knock against his hand. He recoiled for just a moment, until he realized that it wasn’t an animal, and then he wrapped his fingers around it, and began to undig himself. When he was finally able to pull himself free, sand spilled everywhere from within his clothes. He shook out his legs, and out turned his pockets, before he finally glanced at the thing within his hand.

It was small, and orange, with a little golden star glittering at the center. He peered at it, curiously, and lifted it up to his face. He sniffed at it, but could detect nothing outside of the baked smell the desert always gave off. It was rather solid, and when he clicked his nails against it, nothing happened. He sighed, and stuffed it in his pocket, before finally going over to the ship.

He was thoroughly disappointed. Bulma and Vegeta had apparently been exceedingly thorough in their dissection of the ship. Piccolo had been hopeful that, even though Bulma had said to strip the ship, that something would have been left behind - but no. There were no useable parts, or - nothing valuable enough that the Colds would take from him.

Thoroughly put out, he headed home. He arrived just in time to hear the Sons’ window click shut for the night, and decided that there was no sense in him staying outside any longer. He could merely hope that something would turn up rather soon.

However, his luck continued to take a nosedive, for every time he received an alert that there was activity, he was always beaten there by Bulma and Vegeta. Piccolo didn’t know how the two did it, but they always managed to beat him to every single ship. No matter what he did, no matter how early he woke, they were always at the crash site before him. Each time, they stripped the ship. They set out to work, sometimes silently, and sometimes with banter - though it sounded like Bulma considered it playful, while Vegeta took it a little seriously sometimes.

Piccolo was becoming frustrated.

Apparently, so were the duo.

Bulma kept insisting that whatever item they were looking for was at every site they went to.

“It doesn’t make sense,” Vegeta protested. “This is the wrong kind of ship.”

“I’m telling you, I’m picking up readings! We used the last one we had, unfortunately, so I can’t exactly tweak the measurements!” Bulma sighed, and angrily stuffed her strange radar deep into her cargo pockets. “C’mon, let’s head back… I’ve got this stupid fundraiser to attend.”

“Why do you do these events?” Vegeta scoffed. “All you do is complain about them.”

“Well, I have to keep up appearances,” Bulma replied. “You can’t show up and start messing around with scary UFO’s if people don’t trust you.”

“What about that alien that lives here?”

Piccolo’s ears flapped. They were talking about him.

“Yes…” Bulma frowned. “I honestly don’t know where he came from… He startled me, that’s for sure…” She crossed her arms, and tugged nervously at the scarf that hung around her neck. “I don’t know how he’s been allowed to stay here so long…”

“It’s strange for a Namekian to ever be anywhere near Earth. They usually stay in solar systems with multiple suns,” Vegeta said. Piccolo frowned. Namekian? Was that what he was? “He must eat to make up for the rest of nourishment he’s not receiving.”

Was Piccolo… not supposed to eat? Sure, he didn’t eat as much as humans, but…

“Who cares?” Bulma snorted. “We’ll deal with him after we find what we came here for. We can blast him once we’re done.”

“I say interrogate him,” Vegeta gave a rueful grin. “Surely there’s a reason he’s here? Someone put him on this miserable planet, correct?”

“He could have crash-landed, like you,” Bulma said, as she headed back towards the ship.

They left soon after, and Piccolo once more buried himself, and dug himself back out. He stared, miserably, at the ship in front of him. He checked it half-heartedly, but really, he already knew the outcome. Whoever Bulma and Vegeta were, they knew about him - they knew more about him than he himself knew.

He got home early, still stupefied, and still unsure of how to process what exactly Bulma had said. They were going to blast him kept echoing throughout his skull. Whatever it was Bulma was after, Piccolo needed to make sure she never got it.

He sat for a few hours, working on draining sand out of the Pilot’s pieces, still running his thoughts over all that had happened. He was also getting exceedingly nervous. With Bulma’s interferences, he’d had nothing substantial to give the Colds. He’d had a stockpile of stuff that he kept, so as to always have a backup plan, in case sandstorms came through, or something occurred to where he couldn’t give the Colds any new specimens - but that was running dreadfully low.

He was distracted by these thoughts until a car pulled into the driveway next to him, and he heard a car door slam viciously shut.

“Who does she think she is?!” Chi Chi screeched, and Piccolo looked over in enough time to see her kicking a car tire. Gohan was standing behind her, looking rather nervous.

“Bulma?” Piccolo called, and Chi Chi’s red face lifted to stare at him.

“Who else?” she growled.

“I’m gonna go do my reading,” Gohan mumbled, and shot inside. Chi Chi sighed, and sat on the back bumper of her car.

“Charity auction?” Piccolo stood up, and pushed his hands into his pockets.

Chi Chi blinked, looking rather surprised. “Oh.” She said. “I’m… surprised you remembered. I thought you didn’t listen when I talked, to be honest.” She was staring at him with wide eyes, and Piccolo was surprised that he felt something like guilt gnawing at his insides. He actually didn’t remember because of Chi Chi - he just knew it because Bulma had just been talking about it.

Instead of antagonizing Chi Chi, though, he kept his mouth shut for once. It… felt nice, to have her looking at him like that. It was the first time her brow wasn’t furrowed, and she didn’t seem mad. Instead, she… almost looked… happy?

“Either way,” Chi Chi cleared her throat, and stood up, swiping at her immaculate skirt. It fell to her knees, and he could see her flats were covered in dirt, from where she’d just been stomping and kicking. “Yes, it’s Bulma… I was supposed to do this big presentation at the charity meeting, to prepare for a big announcement for the PTA, when she entered - fashionably late, of course - and then everyone stopped listening.” Chi Chi crossed her arms, and kicked once more at her tire. “It was the Neighborhood Meeting all over again.”

Piccolo shuffled his feet. He hesitated. He didn’t know what to say - outside of his usual, snippy remarks. Instead, he gave a rather large shrug of his shoulders. “She’s been annoying me, too,” Piccolo said. Chi Chi glanced at him. “She keeps showing up to all the crash sites that I go to. Her and that alien pal of hers.”

“He’s still around?” Chi Chi stared.

Piccolo forgot that she and Gohan wouldn’t know about it. He hadn’t told them. Hadn’t told anyone, really. The Colds had proven unreliable, and they were typically the only people that Piccolo ever spoke to about these problems. He bit the inside of his cheek, and curled his fingers up inside of his pocket.

He supposed it wouldn’t hurt to tell Chi Chi.

“Yes. They work together.” He gritted his teeth. “They’re here for something - there’s a specific thing they’re looking for. I don’t know what it is. Unfortunately, while they’re looking for it, they’re also stripping down every ship they come across.” He frowned. “I haven’t been able to send in anything to my bosses, so my paycheck’s going to be rather short.”

Chi Chi’s eyes softened in a way that no person’s ever had when they looked at Piccolo. He felt something in his chest squeeze as Chi Chi took a step towards him. One of her dirty shoes pressed into the sand on his side of the yard, and she reached her arms forward, and wrapped him in his first ever hug.

Piccolo froze, and stared directly in front of him. Around his midsection, he heard a slight sniff, and realized that Chi Chi had tears in her eyes. She looked furious, though, and Piccolo was a little astonished. He took a step back, certain she was angry with him.

“I can’t believe her!” Chi Chi snarled, and her tiny hands formed fists in front of her. “You n’ I haven’t always gotten along,” she said snippily, “but you’re still a member of this here neighborhood, and you deserve to be paid for what ya do! And… oh, dear! How’re you eating!”

Piccolo blinked. “Uh -,” He was ready to explain that he still had some spare parts he could hock off to the Colds, when suddenly Chi Chi stamped her foot, and reached forward, grabbing Piccolo’s hand.

“Well, c’mon! You’ll be eatin’ dinner with me n’ Gohan! Then in the mornin’, I’ll take you grocery shoppin’!” Chi Chi shook her head. “And trust me! Me n’ you’ll find a way to get around that Bulma woman. We are neighbors, after all!”

Piccolo was startled by such a thick accent that she hadn’t displayed before, and really, something in him had dropped down to his gut when she’d grabbed at his hand. He hadn’t been able to protest, as Chi Chi hastily dragged him over the sand-and-grass line into her yard. He followed numbly behind her as she tugged him along.

When he entered the house, he was astonished at the difference between this one and his own. Everything inside was immaculate, and indeed, Chi Chi made him kick off his dirty shoes before he was allowed any further. Her friendliness was put on hold temporarily, as Piccolo was astonished by her fingers clasped around his chin, and a popsicle stick that was shoved in his mouth.

Surprised, he held his jaw open, and Chi Chi pushed down on his tongue. Long and purple, it lolled down past his chin, as he tried to flinch away from her, but she merely squinted her eyes up at him.

“It always this color?”

“Yaugh,” Piccolo tried to say, before giving up, and instead giving a hasty nod. He was beginning to regret being cordial to her. She removed the stick from his mouth, just to reach over to a shelf, where she kept some strange device with a light on it, which she stuck in his ear. He yelped.

“Hold still!” Chi Chi commanded. “If you’re going to eat here, then ya need to be healthy!” She squinted through the device, and Piccolo was too stupefied to move. “Hey, they’re pretty clean, buddy!” She finally released him, before she plucked his hand up. His ears flapped against his skull, and Chi Chi gave a dramatic tut, as she examined all eight of his digits. “You need to wash your hands before we eat.”

Piccolo found himself completely cowed for some reason, as Chi Chi shoved him forward, and he walked across the nice mahogany floor of the living room. The room was lit by soft Chinese lanterns that hung from the ceiling, and several bookcases that were overflowing took up where a TV would go. Old, worn-in looking couches were pushed against the wall, with a wood coffee table dead center. On it was a Newton’s cradle, that had a few beakers scattered around it. Gohan’s, Piccolo presumed.

The edges of the table were covered in these strange, plastic pieces, that appeared to remove the sharp points of them, and Piccolo was astonished to see that everything was like that. In the kitchen, it was the same. The nice, laminate floor didn’t match the huge, hulking table, especially with the bright orange plastic bits on it. Each cabinet that Piccolo could see was precisely labeled, with child safety latches put around them. With every label, there was a list tacked up beside them, that clearly displayed the dangers that could happen if one were to come into contact with it.

Piccolo was interrupted from looking, though, as Chi Chi pushed him towards the kitchen sink, where he stooped to wash his hands. He didn’t get far, before Chi Chi made a noise of complaint, and hurriedly stormed over. Piccolo tried to jerk his hands free, but Chi Chi insistently held on, and began scrubbing his own hands for him. He felt his face flush up, as she began instructing him on the proper ways to clean underneath fingernails, when Gohan appeared.

“Hiya, Mr. Piccolo!” Gohan greeted.

“Are your hands clean, mister?” Chi Chi turned a waspish glare on Gohan, who quickly nodded, and displayed his fingernails for inspection. They were apparently satisfactory, as she went back to assaulting Piccolo’s hands.

Thoroughly embarrassed, Piccolo looked everywhere but at Chi Chi, and saw many family pictures hanging about on the walls. They all looked similar to Chi Chi. All of them clearly of Chinese descent, with the same nose, and eye-color that both the Sons had, the same inky locks, and the same heart-shaped faces. It was strange to see so many people, Piccolo thought, as he only had one old hologram, which had lost clarity in its many years.

Chi Chi was finally satisfied, as she released Piccolo, and instructed him on proper rinsing and drying methods.

“Now, you go on and sit, mister,” Chi Chi said, and gave him a rather light shove. Piccolo quickly sat at the table, and stared at hands that almost didn’t look like his. It was so rare that he wasn’t coated in dirt, and he didn’t think he’d ever seen his claws look white before. He peered at them, attempting to be inconspicuous, as Gohan sat across from him.

“Mom makes the best food,” Gohan enthused, and Piccolo frowned. They sure were talking an awful lot. He knew that they talked - of course he did, he often heard them through his window - but he’d thought his presence would cut that short. “How come you’re eating with us, though?”

Piccolo opened his mouth, but Chi Chi cut him off, to explain all the things that “awful Bulma woman” was putting him through. Gohan looked just as upset as his mom.

“Aw, gee, Mr. Piccolo!” Gohan reached a hand out, and placed it on Piccolo’s freshly cleaned hands. He stared at the small thing.

“It’s fine,” he grunted, and retracted his hands from the table completely. They sat in his lap. “I’m more concerned with the fact that she wants to kill me afterwards.” The reaction was immediate.

Gohan yelped, and almost knocked his chair over completely, while Chi Chi spilled whatever she’d been cooking. Piccolo was startled, and glanced between the two.

“What?” he snapped. “It’s not like she’s going to kill either of you.”

“This is serious!” Chi Chi gasped. She stared at Piccolo for just a moment, before she hurried to clean up the spilled food. “How do you know that… that she wants to…?”

Piccolo shrugged. “She said it. Her and that Vegeta alien.”

“That’s bad,” Gohan whispered. Piccolo didn’t understand why they were so upset. They weren’t the ones who’d been threatened.

“Well, she has to find whatever it is she’s looking for first,” Piccolo shrugged. “I don’t think she can afford to cause any trouble until then.” Piccolo stared down at his grubby pants. He almost wished he’d had time to change now, sitting in this immaculate kitchen, with the Sons staring nervously at him. He always wore the same pants out exploring, and he was surprised that Chi Chi had let him in wearing them. He supposed she must have been too focused on everything else.

“But you don’t know what it is?” Gohan asked.

“No idea,” Piccolo admitted. “They never say.”

“They’re bound to mention it at least once…” Chi Chi was done cooking, and was scooping the food onto a plate. Piccolo had never seen it before (he subsided exclusively off of things he could microwave), and apparently it showed. “Chow Fun,” Chi Chi said, as she placed a large plastic spork with rounded tips in front of him. Both Chi Chi and Gohan were using engraved chopsticks.

Piccolo picked up the spork, and stared dubiously at the food that Gohan was already eagerly eating.

“They’re presents from my father,” she said, noticing Piccolo’s stares. Piccolo flushed, and returned his stare to his food. He dug his spork into the food, and lifted it hesitantly up to his mouth. He took a hasty bit, thoroughly prepared to make an excuse about having to leave - about how human food didn’t agree with him - when he felt himself begin to salivate, and was astonished at how good the food tasted. The beef was savory as he hastily took another bite. He’d never had homemade food before, and he found himself clearing his plate faster than either Chi Chi or Gohan.

Chi Chi blinked, and stared at him. Piccolo hid his face. He felt odd. Between the pictures, the chopsticks, the delicious food, and the conversation…

“Would you like more?”

Chi Chi’s voice startled him, and Piccolo gave a nod before he could even think. Chi Chi seemed delighted, and quickly scooped his plate up, and gave him an even larger serving. She plopped it on the table in front of him, and gave him a delighted smile.

“You look like you’ve never had a meal in your whole life,” Chi Chi said, and gave an impatient wave. “Well, go on! Eat as much as you like, I made plenty!” And Piccolo did. As he ate, he listened to Gohan talk about his school day, and Chi Chi rattle on about the things she did around the house. The topics occasionally broke, and the Sons would ask Piccolo about what he was doing, and he actually found himself telling them about some of the ships he came across.

When the night was winding closed, Piccolo saw Chi Chi get up and click the kitchen window closed. She gave him a rather sleep smile, and took up all their plates. Piccolo felt something in his gut lurch as he was told good night by both Chi Chi and Gohan. He headed home, belly full, to his empty house, with the sickly glow.

He sat on his bed, and stared at his father.

Piccolo wondered what he would have given him, had he been around.


	3. Heart's Desire

When Piccolo woke up the morning after his dinner with the Sons, it was to a rather large amount of shouting coming from out in his front yard. He woke with a start, and desperately grabbed his shotgun. He was certain that Bulma may have found what she was in Barren Grove for, and had shown up to blast him. A bullet would down her, he knew, but he wondered about Vegeta. While rather short, alien biology could be strange, and Piccolo wasn't certain what a bullet would do to him.

Piccolo rarely felt fear, but in that moment, he felt it like a bubble in his chest. Something wobbling and intangible. He slept in his clothes, so he didn't need to change, but he quickly toed on his boots and slowly walked to the front door.

His breathing was fast and shallow, as his finger flexed around the trigger. He gulped. He'd never actually killed a human before. It felt different than blowing an amorphous blob to smithereens, or than downing an avian creature. None of the aliens he'd encountered had been able to talk to him. None of them had had any sort of emotion in their eyes outside of pure survival instinct.

He gritted his fangs together. After a few moments, it appeared they weren't going to knock in his front door. He thought of glancing out the window, but he didn't want them to see him. His only option was to burst out in a blaze of bullets, and hope to catch them off guard. His mind was firing in ridiculous directions all at once.

If he killed Bulma, they certainly wouldn't tolerate him in town any longer. The cops - maybe even that bald one from Chi Chi's neighborhood thing - would come take him away. He didn't think the Colds would bother to get him out. He'd probably rot away, or be experimented on, like those conspiracy theories that Gohan told him about…

Gohan and Chi Chi. He frowned. The fear dissipated for just a moment, as he wondered what would happen to them. If he killed Vegeta and Bulma, would they think he was a ruthless murderer? But if Vegeta and Bulma killed him - would they be upset?

Piccolo frowned, and stared at the barrel of his gun… perhaps he could shoot to wound?

With a steadying breath, Piccolo pushed open the door, and let loose a warning shot.

Piccolo heard a scream, and glanced wildly around, just to see Chi Chi sitting near his doorstep.

He stared in bewilderment. There was no Bulma, and no Vegeta, but there was a very red faced Chi Chi, with a large sun hat that she'd tugged around her ears. She was kneeling in the sand, with huge pink gloves, and a healthy amount of sunblock slathered on her nose.

"Are you crazy?!" Chi Chi screeched. Her face looked a boiling angry, but Piccolo didn't care. The bubble of fear burst, and he slumped down in his doorway. The gun clattered to the ground, and he grasped at the sides of his head. He wanted to laugh with relief, but he suppressed it.

A shadow was cast over him, as Chi Chi had jumped up from her kneeling position.

"What are you thinking?! What were you even shooting at?! Hey! Are you listening to me?!" Chi Chi's voice was loud - and almost hysterically angry. She reached down, and gripped at the back of his shirt collar. She tugged at him, until he looked up at her. "Hello?!"

"I thought you were Bulma," he mumbled.

It was like he'd hit a lightswitch. Chi Chi's eyes widened, and she dropped back to her knees. She released her hold on his shirt, just to latch onto his hands. He protested - the gloves were rough - but she held tight. She peered up at him, and the brim of her sunhat brushed his nose.

"She's not here," Chi Chi said delicately.

"Well, obviously." Piccolo snapped. He felt uncomfortable. Her eyes were deep brown, and the way they bore into his own disrupted his thought pattern.

"Don't be a jerk," Chi Chi chastised. She kept her grip on his hand, and gave him one more, gentle squeeze.

"What are you even doing in my yard?" Piccolo finally snapped, and jerked his hand away from her.

Chi Chi huffed. "Well, your yard looks so sad! I was planting some nice decorations!" She beamed at him, and pointed to either side of his front door, where he could see she'd planted a line of little cacti, four on each side.

Piccolo stared at them.

"Prickly, just like you," Chi Chi said, with a quirk of her brow, "and they don't require much to live. Figured they'd be the perfect match for you."

Piccolo frowned.

"Your little house just looks too sad. Haven't you ever thought about fixing the stuff that's wrong with it?"

"No," Piccolo said, rather sharply. "I don't plan to be here for too long, so why should I put in effort?"

Chi Chi gave him a confused look. "Are you moving?"

"To outer space." Piccolo sounded a bit more snotty than he'd intended. It was supposed to sound impressive and imposing. Instead, he sounded like a brat.

"You… have a ship?"

"No… not yet. That's why I collect all these pieces." Piccolo stood up, and snapped up his gun. "I send them into the Colonel Freeza and he gives them to his father, the Sergeant Major Cold."

Chi Chi stared at him in confusion. "Wait - Sergeant Major - ?"

"Yes," Piccolo said impatiently. He quickly turned his back on Chi Chi. "I'm done talking about this. I'm going back inside."

Chi Chi looked as if she were going to argue for a moment, before she shook her head, and rose to her feet. "Wait! I'm here for another reason. I need to take you grocery shopping!"

"What?" Piccolo turned, mouth agape. He was certain he'd misheard her.

"You said you were low on money, right? Well, we're supposed to be a community!" Chi Chi looked rather proud of herself, as she held one finger aloft. "Hunger and poverty are known to cause quite a few problems within the neighborhood. For one, people can turn to a life of crime," she began ticking off her fingers, "drug abuse, alcohol abuse, and many other things that create a negative mood and reputation, all of which -,"

"Can affect how your children grow?" Piccolo snarled out.

Chi Chi gave a sharp nod. "Of course!"

"This in that book of yours?" he griped.

"Yes." She didn't seem to understand that Piccolo meant it negatively, and clapped her gloved hands together. "Did you want to borrow them?"

"I think having you as a neighbor," Piccolo griped, "means I'll have it memorized soon anyways."

Chi Chi sighed. "Unfortunately, even I don't have the whole thing memorized just yet. I'm working on it. I do - ah - read other… things… It's not important." She coughed, and looked rather flushed as she dithered for just a moment. "Either way! I can take you shopping. Just a few things, for when you're not eating dinner with me n' Gohan."

Piccolo started. "What - ? I - I never said that was going to be a common thing," he finally growled.

Chi Chi waved a hand through the air. "I mean, I'm assuming it's not permanent. But at least until you find a way around whatever it is Bulma's doing!"

Piccolo chewed on the inside of his lip.

"Come on! Gohan's at school right now - so it's the perfect time to go. I also got a bunch of coupons in the mail for the new place that just opened up!" Chi Chi pulled off her gloves, and dug into the pockets of her pants, and waved a glossy sheet in front of him.

"The hell…?" Piccolo stared. It was odd for a new business to pop up. "When did this open?"

Chi Chi had a funny sort of look on her face, and offered an airy sort of shrug. "Oh… y'know. Probably this morning. That's when I got the flyers, anyways." Her voice sounded odd and vacant.

Piccolo frowned. "I didn't see them building anything when we went to the neighborhood meeting…" He stared at the papers in Chi Chi's hand, but she quickly tucked them back into her pocket.

"Oh, sometimes buildings just pop up real fast…" Her voice was stiff off, and she dropped her gloves in his yard, and left them there. When she turned back around, she seemed to be herself once more. "Well, c'mon, slowpoke. We'll take my car!"

Piccolo followed reluctantly. Something about this was incredibly off. His suspicions were only more thoroughly confirmed when, as they headed down the long road into town, he saw that almost everyone in the area seemed to be headed towards the new supermarket. Cars were bumper to bumper, as they all filed into this brand new establishment.

The building itself was a huge, domed structure. Several large billboards flashed colored lights at all the incoming cars. "YOUR HEART'S DESIRE" blinked on one, while another showed, "EVERYTHING YOU WANT, RIGHT HERE!" Piccolo found the lights to be blinding, but Chi Chi pointed ecstatically, and Piccolo had to grab the wheel to avoid her shooting into the next lane.

They finally pulled into the parking lot, and Chi Chi eagerly jumped out of her car, and took off. Piccolo had to run to catch up with her. He pushed through people he recognized from the neighborhood meeting, but he saw that they were all like Chi Chi, and seemed to be entranced by what the place was offering. Unnerved, Piccolo tried to keep track of the bouncing black bob of hair that told him Chi Chi was just ahead of him.

Once he walked through the glass doors, however, and the air conditioning rolled over him, Piccolo stopped. His eyes swam, and the room seemed to fog up momentarily. All of the people that had been pressed around him disappeared - and with them, Chi Chi.

He finally took a step forward, and his legs wobbled beneath him. He took in a deep breath, and saw in front of him shelf upon shelf of merchandise. He didn't pay attention as he slowly tried to remember how to walk.

He closed his eyes, and when he opened them, he saw something like a green blur shoot in front of him. Piccolo almost jumped, before he took off after it. After his chase with Chi Chi, Piccolo was already rather winded, and slowly found himself slipping into a lagging jog, while he clutched at a stitch in his side.

Every time he got close to the green figure, it would dip around a corner. He'd yet to see what it was. He took off after it once more, and ran through a selection of leather jackets. The thing was bobbing and weaving between them, and Piccolo tried to cut a straight line through the stifling clothing. The jacket section seemed ridiculously large for a supermarket, and Piccolo soon grew aggravated with it.

When he did, a new section opened up, and Piccolo was startled to see a cluster of old pick up trucks, all of them old and rusted. He stared, confused, at the things before him. He didn't have long to think, however, as the green figure had just disappeared around one of the tailgates, and Piccolo quickly took off.

He passed through a gun section, an area of nothing but apples, until finally, Piccolo's feet skidded to a halt over the tile flooring. The figure had finally stopped, and its back was to Piccolo. But his attention was drawn elsewhere, by the large, fully lit, blinking spaceship.

Piccolo stared, disbelieving, at the large, shiny, purple exterior. His eyes were drawn back to the figure, however, as it had slowly begun to turn towards him.

Piccolo saw that the figure had green skin, and a tunic the same color. When the eyes of the creature met his, Piccolo was startled to see that the face was blurry and fuzzy, and that everything on the figure was a bright, vivid green. There was almost no discernible features, and Piccolo drew his brow down, realizing where he'd seen the figure before.

It was his father's hologram.

"It gives you anything you want…" Piccolo released a bitter laugh, and glowered at his 'father'. Of course, it could only go off of memories. The figure tilted its head, as if aware that Piccolo knew what was going on. Piccolo went to turn away, but the figure lunged for him, and in a green wave, Piccolo was knocked to the ground. His head his the tiles with a ferocious crack, and he clenched his eyes shut tight.

* * *

 

"Hey… Hey, Piccolo!"

A voice rang loudly in his ears, and his eyes fluttered open. He lurched into the sitting position, ignoring the wave of nausea that crashed over him, as he grasped desperately at Chi Chi's elbows. She stared, startled, at him.

"Piccolo, wha - ?"

"It's a trap!" Piccolo snarled. He was angry with himself for not having caught it earlier. He'd known this place was bad news! "We have to get the hell out of here!"

"Calm down," Chi Chi said, voice rising to overtake his own. "I know. I figured it out." She shook the bangs from her eyes, and slid out of his grip. He felt embarrassed, until Chi Chi grasped his hand, and gave him a quick smile. "C'mon, big fella. Up ya go."

She pulled him to his feet, and Piccolo staggered.

"Damn thing… I should've realized that everywhere I went had exactly what I wanted…" Piccolo curled his lips up.

Chi Chi nodded. "Yep… that's how I figured it out. I mean - everything I was shopping for was on one aisle. D'you know what kinda expert I am at grocery shopping? That never happens!" She looked offended, as she stared around at all the shelves.

Piccolo peered around them, and was surprised to see that the shelves were full of a cereal, with little aliens dancing on the front box. He started towards one, and then halted.

"Nothing in here is real…." he muttered to himself, and shook his head.

"Hey, maybe we can find the exit together," Chi Chi said, and once more her hand found his.

Piccolo flushed. "I can - I can walk on my own," he mumbled.

"I know you can," she smiled again, "but I just want to help you."

Piccolo gave a slow nod. The press of her palm in his actually calmed him down, and reminded him that she was real. Her fingers intertwined with his, and Piccolo felt that familiar lurch in his gut. She led him along, and he followed, continuously checking for any of the other people that entered the store with them. Perhaps they could break people out of… whatever the hell this was.

Nothing appeared, though, except for aisles upon aisles of Orbit-O's. He felt something like guilt in his stomach every time he looked at one of the boxes. He kept reminding himself, however, that they obviously weren't real. Since Piccolo had never actually seen the cereal, each of the boxes were slightly different, and all of them rather non-descript outside of what Piccolo had imagined when Gohan had described the cereal to him.

"I wonder if we'll find the exit…" Chi Chi spoke up, and actually sounded worried for a moment. She turned to him, and her free hand reached for his. "Piccolo…" He felt a chill race down his spine. "Do you have any ideas?"

"Uh - ," he spluttered.

"We have to get home for Gohan, right?"

Piccolo gave a curt nod. He tugged her along this time, and tried to think of something that he wanted. Anything that might help him. As he headed through the aisles, the store finally opened up into a rather large artillery section. He grinned, and Chi Chi followed behind him. He reached for a shotgun - his favorite model - and turned to see Chi Chi picking up what appeared to be a flamethrower.

He smirked. "Oh, what would your favorite author say about that?"

"Oh, you know," Chi Chi smiled, "Hunger and poverty are known to cause quite a few problems within the neighborhood!"

Piccolo froze.

"What?"

Chi Chi's smile faltered. "Sorry, I'm a little frazzled…" Chi Chi shook her head, and set the flamethrower to the side, as she placed a soft hand onto Piccolo's arm. "It's scary in here…"

"Right…" Piccolo frowned. "Scary, huh? Chi Chi…"

"Yes, Piccolo?"

"What's the author… of that book and - I forgot the name of it, too." Piccolo stared at her, and watched as her mouth opened and closed repeatedly.

"I-well- this is hardly the time, Piccolo!" Chi Chi frowned up at him. "Honestly, I'm terrified out of my wits right now! You want me to memorize a stupid book!"

Piccolo lifted the shotgun, and leveled it with Chi Chi's temple. "Really now?"

"What the fuck is wrong with you?!" She screeched, and Piccolo's grimaced. "I-I meant fudge! It's just! I'm so scared! You know!"

Piccolo jammed the shotgun more forcibly against her head, and narrowed his eyes.

"What the hell is this place?" he demanded.

"None of your goddamn business!" The thing pretending to be Chi Chi's voice dropped to a guttural, inhuman growl, and all around him the store began to shimmer. The edges of his vision went hazy, and Chi Chi shot a hand out, unsuccessfully trying to smack the gun from his hand. It did knock him aside, however, and the thing took that time to run.

Piccolo felt a shock course through him, as the Orbit-O's disappeared, and so did the shelves. Suddenly, Piccolo was surrounded by an empty building, with hundreds of people crammed inside. They all had their eyes closed, and were mumbling in their sleep. Piccolo looked down, and saw that his gun was gone. Of course - it had been an illusion.

Piccolo glanced wildly around, until he spotted Chi Chi, laying haphazardly amidst a pile of people. He quickly rushed over to her, stepping on a few people in the process, who remained blissfully unaware. Piccolo knelt down, and grabbed Chi Chi by the shoulders. He pulled her up, and saw her head loll back, just before he was slammed backwards. He hurtled through the air, until his back hit the concrete wall, and he slid to a heap on the floor. His ribs ached as he lay there.

**I DON'T THINK SO, PICCOLO.**

Piccolo fought to raise his head, and stared aimlessly around the room. He couldn't see what had attacked him, or what had spoken. Whatever the thing was, it's voice felt as if it were echoing around the entire room. He shifted, and realized that he was sitting on a couple, who were twitching rather violently.

**YOU SHOULD HAVE STAYED IN THE FANTASY.**

Piccolo tried to rise to his feet, but he was slammed back against the wall once more.

**I'LL GIVE YOU ANOTHER CHANCE. GO BACK TO SLEEP, AND YOU WON'T EVEN REALIZE WHEN YOU DIE.**

Piccolo stared desperately around. There was nothing to attack the thing with, and even if he had a gun, he had no idea where the damned creature was. He thought, wildly.

"Who - or what - the hell are you?" he finally demanded.

**I AM A CREATURE THAT FEEDS OFF OF HAPPINESS. CAN'T YOU SEE, THAT MAKING YOU HAPPY IS ALL I WANT TO DO?**

In front of his eyes, Piccolo saw the hazy form of his father walk towards him, along with a smiling Chi Chi, who was now holding hands with an eagerly bouncing Gohan. Piccolo gritted his teeth, and glowered at the figures in front of him.

**LOOK, PICCOLO! A FAMILY. ALL THAT'S MISSING IS YOU. YOUR FATHER, YOUR FRIENDS… WOULDN'T THIS BE THE PERFECT LIFE?**

He clutched at his ribs, and tried not to look too hard at the mirage. But, even though he knew it was an illusion, Piccolo found himself scooting forward, just the tiniest bit. His knees bit into people's backs as he shuffled forward.

"C'mon, Mr. Piccolo!" Gohan enthused, and lurched forward, his chubby little hands pressing Piccolo's cheeks. "We can go grab me a box of Orbit-O's, and I'll help you work on your ship!"

"We can explore space together." His father spoke, in a staticky voice, that almost resembled Freeza's.

"We'll go with you." Chi Chi knelt beside Gohan, and the two had identical beaming grins. "I'll cook for you every night!"

"Look, son," his father spoke up, and suddenly the large purple spaceship was there, blinking merrily away. Except now, it had Piccolo's name carved into the side of its metal plating. Piccolo's heart lurched. "It's just for you."

"Just for us," Chi Chi corrected.

Piccolo was enraptured, and was slowly rising to his feet, when the front doors of the building hissed open. He couldn't care less, though, as Chi Chi and Gohan both had a tight hold on him. They slowly led him forward, and the ship's doors opened. His father was already inside, waving eagerly for everyone to join him.

Just as Piccolo was ready to enter the doors, he heard the booming voice screech, **NOOO!** before the illusion crumpled before him. His father, the ship, Chi Chi, and Gohan all dissipated. He was left staring at empty air as Bulma swung in front of him, her gun aimed at the ceiling of the shopping market. Piccolo stared, disbelieving, at her, as she wore rather large ear muffs, and equally large goggles.

Bulma let loose a few more blasts, and Piccolo jumped as a large, jellyfish looking creature fell from the ceiling. It's limbs flailed desperately, but soon Vegeta appeared, in a similar getup to Bulma's. They both levied shot after shot towards the thing, until it gave one last desperate wail.

"Should be safe now," Vegeta called, and both he and Bulma removed their goggles and earmuffs. Piccolo glanced between the two. Bulma dug into her pocket, and gave another curse. "It's supposed to be around here somewhere! What the hell! That thing didn't have it, and neither did its ship!"

Vegeta turned his gaze to Piccolo, though, and motioned for Bulma to be quiet.

Piccolo found his voice once more. "What… the hell was that thing?!"

"Can't pronounce their names," Vegeta said idly, his tail swinging behind him. "Either way - nasty creatures. They - ,"

"Feed off of happiness," Piccolo interrupted. "Yeah, it told me."

"Hm. It's apparently pretty damn hard to break out of its illusions," Bulma said, almost sounding impressed. "It emits a frequency into the air, making people want to come to its base. Once it has everyone there, it traps them. It remains invisible, and siphons off of everyone like living batteries." Piccolo noticed she still had her gun out.

"Why wasn't I affected… I only came here because of my… my neighbor." Piccolo flushed. He didn't know whether or not they had seen what the creature had been using to lure him back in.

"It was aiming for humans," Bulma replied. The frequency it sends out to lure people is much weaker than the one centralized within its hub." She glanced around. "Once you actually came inside, though…"

"How were you able to resist?" Piccolo demanded, his suspicions high. He didn't trust Bulma, and especially not with her still holding her gun at the ready.

"I caught her trying to sneak out," Vegeta replied in a droll voice. "I equipped her with these noise canceling earmuffs that Capsule Corp is working with." He began moving towards the alien. "I've ran across these before, on other planets. Nasty things." Vegeta was smiling, though, and a rather deranged laugh came from his mouth as he knelt down. "Unfortunately, they taste terrible." He clucked his tongue. "You'd think if they fed on happiness, they'd taste a little… cheerier."

"You being gross aside," Bulma cut in, as she slowly lifted the gun to Piccolo's face. And… there it was. "I'm going to make this rather quick. I don't want anyone to know I was involved here."

Piccolo sneered. "Wouldn't that help your image? You being the wonderful savior of all these people?"

"He's got a point," Vegeta said. He remained crouched by the alien, but his thighs quivered, and his tail was bristled. He was clearly ready to lunge.

"Keep the sass to yourself," Bulma snapped, and her arm never wavered. "I have my reasons for staying downlow. So I need you to keep this a secret."

"Or what?" Piccolo said. "You'll blast me? Didn't you already decide to do that, one way or the other?" He knew he was being stupid, riling Bulma up. But he was in an insane amount of pain, and was rather fed up - emotionally and physically.

Bulma blinked. "You've been spying?" Her eyes narrowed, and Piccolo saw her trigger finger tighten ever so slightly.

"Not really spying. You two interfere with my job, and I've ran across you."

"Your job…?"

"Collecting ship parts," Piccolo explained. If Bulma were anybody else, this all would have been explained in the paperwork they signed to live in this area. But obviously, whoever Bulma was, she had not arrived here in the usual fashion.

Bulma hesitated. "You collect ship parts… why?"

"I told you," Piccolo snapped, growing impatient, "it's my job! Assigned to me by the army!"

Bulma's stare grew incredulous. "What the hell are you talking about - ?" She broke off abruptly, as people all around them began to stir. Whatever the alien had been using to keep them out cold was clearly wearing off.

Vegeta called a quick, "Hurry up!" and Bulma nodded.

"Listen, get down on the ground, and pretend you were knocked out like the rest of them," she commanded, speaking rapidly. Vegeta had clambered up to the ceiling, and had pulled down a piece of it, where he let it crash onto the alien's head. Piccolo stared in amazement. "Everyone will think it died by it falling. We'll be in contact later…" Bulma stared at him, before Vegeta ran up to her and gave her an impatient tug. She quickly followed him, hurrying over top of all the prone bodies.

Piccolo quickly dropped down, and slumped himself up against the wall. He fluttered his lids closed, and listened. It took about five more minutes for people to wake up, and Piccolo heard noises all around him as they all stumbled to their feet, confused. He heard their movements shift, as people gathered around the alien's corpse, audibly expressing their surprise.

Piccolo stayed where he was, until he heard someone calling his name, and suddenly Chi Chi was at his side. Her eyes were wide, as she clapped her hands to his cheeks, and lifted his face to hers. He could feel that her hands were rough and calloused, and felt relief pulse through him.

"That… there's an alien over there!" Chi Chi cried. She didn't sound scared - more confused. "I.. I don't understand… one moment I was sitting there, picking out these purple pants for you - the ones you wear all the time are so grungy, you really need new ones - then the next thing I know, I wake up in a room full of people and a dead alien!" She seemed to be growing angrier the more confused she got, and Piccolo shook his head.

"I'll explain later," he mumbled.

"You'll explain now!" Her voice rose in indignation, but Piccolo quickly motioned for her to quiet down. Luckily, no one was paying them any attention, as everyone seemed to be discussing what they'd seen in the store prior to being woken up.

"It has to do with Bulma," he whispered, and that seemed to aggravate Chi Chi even further, but she did manage to fume silently this time. She glanced down at her watch, and blinked in confusion.

"It's… only been an hour," Chi Chi muttered.

Piccolo was surprised as well, but kept quiet, as he and Chi Chi slowly rose to their feet.

"I've… never known an alien to come into town like this," he muttered. He and Chi Chi were headed towards the front door, as people were still swarming the inside of the building to even think of leaving yet.

"Never?"

Piccolo had almost forgotten that Chi Chi hadn't always been in Barren Grove. He blinked, and shook his head.

"No… one landed in my yard once, but… they're usually all about landing in the desert. Quiet, no one to see them. Most of them crash-land, too - probably do it just so they don't make a big fuss. If they live through the crash, they need to be able to get away safe and unnoticed." Piccolo got into Chi Chi's car, and saw that the giant blinking billboards were gone, and all that was left was the now dull dome of plain metal.

Piccolo looked to the top, and saw that there looked to be what used to be a ship up at the top, but it had clearly been ransacked. Piccolo could see the busted glass, and the remnants of pieces dangling that would have once been attached to the important components of the ship.

"Those bastards," Piccolo snapped.

Chi Chi gave him a curious look.

"They stripped the ship before they came to help." He crossed his arms furiously, and slumped back in his seat. As much as he hated the thought, he knew that he needed to call Freeza now.


	4. Shot of Slime

“So… an alien took over a grocery store, and trapped us there?” 

 

Chi Chi was staring at him with wide eyes, as she and Piccolo sat at the local diner. A few patrons were staring avidly at Piccolo, but he opted to ignore them as best he could. He sipped at the smoothie that Chi Chi had gotten him, and swilled his straw around.

 

“That’s what I’m saying.” 

 

They had left without anyone noticing them, and had immediately come here. Already, some people from the store had filtered in. They all looked rather dazed and confused, and were murmuring in quiet whispers. While the people in town new of aliens existing, most of them had never actually had contact with the creatures. Their apprehension seemed to be even higher, as their eyes kept locking onto Piccolo. He was sure they were somehow blaming him.

 

“I can’t believe it…” Chi Chi had just knocked back her second cup of tea. She’d also ordered a plate of eggs, bacon, and a biscuit. Piccolo had sampled some of the food at her request, and it helped him relax a bit. He’d never had the food here before, and he found he didn’t hate it… He supposed, though, that he still preferred Chi Chi’s home-cooked meals. Not that he would ever tell her.

 

He watched her sip from her mug, and traced the pattern of her furrowed brow with his eyes. He felt strange, looking at her now. He kept thinking back to the alien’s promises - of how he could have a family of his own. He still couldn’t decipher why Chi Chi and Gohan would be in any future plans of his. As far as he was concerned, they were his lousy, obnoxious neighbors. 

 

He dropped his chin into his hand, and glowered at the plate. He stabbed his fork into some of the eggs, and chewed in silence. He made sure to glare directly at one of the customers. A woman kept insistently staring him down.

 

“It was strange…” Chi Chi said softly. Piccolo blinked, and looked at Chi Chi. “I kept finding so many sales!” She smacked her palm against the table, and gave a quick shake of her head. “I toldja - I was getting you some new pants! They were marked down to two bucks! That would’ve been a steal!”

 

Piccolo’s stomach felt a bit hot, as he gave a sharp shrug of his shoulders. “Leave it to you… A whole myriad of things that the alien could have offered you, and you’re worried about pants.” He snorted, and Chi Chi gave a strained sort of laugh.

 

“Yes, well - even if you don’t think it’s important, it is to me.” She picked up one of the pieces of bacon, and wobbled it in between her fingers. As she ate it, Piccolo realized that… she might not be telling all of the truth. Then again, he wasn’t being entirely honest, either. He’d told her that he’d seen pickup trucks, guns, etcetera, but he’d left out his father, and - of course - her.

 

He decided not to press the issue, and instead drummed his fingers against the table.

 

“I have to call my boss,” Piccolo grumbled.

 

Chi Chi tilted her head. “Why?”

 

“He’s going to want to know that a spaceship landed  _ in _ town. And the havoc it wreaked… Though I am in for one hell of a shouting match for the fact that I didn’t get any parts.” Piccolo groaned, and rubbed at the base of his antennae. “That goddamn Bulma…”

 

“I can’t believe she prioritized that ship over people’s lives!” Chi Chi snapped, and Piccolo shushed her. “Oh, they deserve to know,” she hissed out. 

 

“You’re probably right,” Piccolo said, “but that’s not going to change the fact that she outranks us in popularity.”

 

“You’re not wrong there…” Chi Chi huffed. “I had a whole plan -,”

 

“Yes, your whole plan to monitor grass growth for children,” Piccolo mocked. “What a shame it won’t come to fruition.”

 

“It is!” Chi Chi balled her hand up into a fist. “My progress was set back at least a few months because of all these interferences…” She set her jaw out in obstinance. 

 

Piccolo forgot himself, and let out the tiniest snort - barely even an exhalation - but Chi Chi turned those big brown eyes on him, and grinned.

 

“So - you can laugh, huh? I suppose I should be pissed that you’re laughing at  _ me _ ,” she flicked a salt packet at him, hitting him square in the nose, “but I’ll take it.”

 

Piccolo re schooled his face back into its typical apathy, as he flipped the packet back at her.

 

“That’s  _ a-salt _ ,” he grumbled. Chi Chi’s laugh rose in volume, and for a moment, Piccolo forgot he was a freak alien that wasn’t supposed to be out and about in town. He allowed himself to crack a smile, albeit a tiny one, and Chi Chi picked up the tiny black packet next to the abandoned salt one.

 

“That joke was so terrible,” she said, “I might have to  _ pepper _ spray you.”

 

Piccolo bared his teeth at her. “Mine was a bit more clever.”

 

“You sit alone in a house all day,” Chi Chi sniffed, pushing her nose up in the air. “I’m sure you have plenty of time to think of bad puns!”

 

He snorted. “Please. If my life was that boring, it would be a  _ pun _ ishment.”

 

Chi Chi audibly groaned, and pretended to claw at the air. “Horrible! Dreck! The Worst!” 

 

It wasn’t until they were walking out the door that Piccolo realized he still had a smile on his face. He quickly reschooled his face back into its classic frown, and Chi Chi shoved her tongue out at him.

 

“Aw, c’mon. Big bad alien afraid of looking happy for once?”

 

“You have a reputation for being insufferably involved, and I have one for being an evil alien. I’m keeping it that way.” Piccolo crossed his arms as they clambered into Chi Chi’s car.

 

“Insufferable?” She squawked. “You’re being awfully rude, young man!”

 

“I’m an adult,” he protested.

 

Chi Chi peered at him. “Huh… how old are you?”

 

Piccolo gave a start at the question. “I don’t know specifics,” he replied slowly. He turned his head to peer out the window, as Chi Chi turned the key in the ignition. “I don’t usually keep track of the years… I’d guess around twenty-two.”

 

“Practically a baby,” Chi Chi sniffed. “See, I was right!”

 

Piccolo glowered at her. He hadn’t considered that Chi Chi was older than him. He hadn’t really given it much thought. He knew she had a kid, and he knew a rough estimation about human biology, but he didn’t think much of it. Now, he watched her covertly as she drove.

 

Her shoulders were hunched forward, and she kept her eyes squinted up, but he knew that some of those lines would stay whenever she relaxed. Her hair wasn’t graying yet, but he could see that her hands were roughened by age and work - the knuckles rather knobbly as they clutched at the steering wheel. He was curious as to how old she was, but he refused to ask. Then she’d think that he was encouraging camaraderie, or some other nonsense.

 

It took Piccolo a moment to realize that they weren’t heading back towards their houses, and instead were driving the opposite way on the long stretch of road. He sat up, and felt the seat belt bit into his collar bone.

 

“The hell are we going?” he demanded.

 

“To pick up Gohan.”

 

“Why do I have to come along?” He turned a defiant gaze on her, and Chi Chi simply made a shooing motion with her hand.

 

“Relax, you walking cactus.” Piccolo recoiled from the remark. “It’ll take two seconds.”

 

“Did you forget that I’m large and  _ green _ ?” Piccolo snapped.

 

“Funnily enough, no,” she deadpanned. “It’s a small detail about you, but - sometimes I don’t even notice.”

 

He felt the tips of his ears burn purple. “I don’t want people to see me!”

 

“We’ve been driving around town!” Chi Chi said in exasperation. “We ate at a diner together! We were going to go shopping! Don’t you think it’s a bit late to pull this now?”

 

Resigned to the fact that she was right, Piccolo flopped back in his seat. He pulled the trigger to recline the seat, and threw it back with a vengeance. He had a few moments of satisfaction, before Chi Chi reached over and smacked his leg.

 

“Act right!”

 

“Don’t patronize me!” Piccolo snarled.

 

Chi Chi fired back, and they bickered the whole way to Gohan’s school.  Piccolo remained where he was, and continued to smart off to Chi Chi as Gohan opened up the door, and clambered into his booster seat. With Piccolo’s seat all the way back, his head was rather close to Gohan’s knee, and he glowered at the kid.

 

“Hiya,” Gohan said. To the kid’s credit, he hadn’t shouted or drawn attention to the strange alien in his car. He merely shut the door rather fast, and clicked his seat belt into place. “Why’re you here?” Now that he was situated, he peered curiously at Piccolo.

 

“Your mother kidnapped me,” he said.

 

“Oh, shut up!” Chi Chi griped.

 

“Your breath smells like bacon.” Gohan had leaned closer to dig into his backpack, and Piccolo quickly clamped his mouth shut.

 

“At the diner, where absolutely  _ no one _ could see you, unlike now, where you’d be completely exposed if you just  _ sat up _ !” Chi Chi huffed, and Gohan giggled.

 

“Keep laughing, kid,” Piccolo grumbled. “I’ll feed you to an alien.”

 

“I think we’ve had enough alien encounters today,” Chi Chi said.

 

“Not including me?”

 

“Definitely including you.”

 

At Gohan’s curious looks, Piccolo filled in the kid as to what happened. He stared, slack-jawed, as Chi Chi shifted uncomfortably in her seat. At first, she had tried to protest Gohan being told what had happened, and even though she’d allowed Piccolo to tell the story, she had consistently cut him off with minor edits to the story. She had Piccolo revise how the alien looked, how badly the alien had thrown him around, and even the fact that Vegeta and Bulma had acted. Piccolo grew so irritated with all the censoring, that he’d eventually given up, and just let Chi Chi tell her much neutered version of what had happened.

 

“Wowee…” Gohan finally breathed out. “Aliens sure are scary, huh, Mr. Piccolo?”

 

Piccolo snorted. “They’re not that impressive. Most of them can be taken out with a well placed bullet.”

 

Chi Chi made a distressed noise.

 

“Most of them?” Gohan asked.

 

“Some of them have protective armor, so if you have to find where you can pierce it - ,”

 

“That’s enough!” Chi Chi finally warbled out. She seemed a tad more upset than she had before, and Piccolo actually lapsed into silence. “I don’t want Gohan knowing about these things.” She said it decisively, and left no room for arguments.

 

Piccolo clicked his jaw shut, and gave a rather mutinous nod.

 

**

Piccolo sat on the phone, and rattled off everything that had happened - with a few minor details redacted. He didn’t mention the fact that the Son family had appeared to him, that his father had been there, or anything else that could be incriminating. Everything else, however, he relayed, and was surprised that for once Freeza was actually silent and listening.

 

When Piccolo finished, a heavy silence greeted him. It unnerved him, as Freeza was typically rather smarmy. 

 

“Hello?” Piccolo finally demanded, as the line continued to hum with emptiness. 

 

“I’m here,” Freeza finally muttered. It sounded as if he were drumming his nails against a table. “Are you certain this Bulma woman hasn’t said what she’s looking for?”

 

“I’m certain,” Piccolo said.

 

“And this man… Vegeta…” Freeza seemed to trail off once more. Piccolo could hear the rustle of pages on the other side of the line. “Ah-ha! I know who he is!”

 

“Well?”

 

“That’s not important.” Freeza dropped whatever it was he’d been holding, and clucked his tongue. “All you need to know is that you are not to go to hand-to-hand combat with him. He is a Saiyan - a rather strong species. They’re warriors, and are notoriously vicious.”

 

“Good to know,” Piccolo grumbled. “And what am I supposed to do about the fact that I can’t turn any ships in because of these two?”

 

“Well, daddy’s not going to send money your way if you’re not providing for us,” Freeza replied coolly. “So if you’re expecting handouts, I’m afraid you’re going to be rather sore.”

 

Piccolo’s stomach dropped. He stared at the pile of parts that he’d amassed to keep him afloat. He was down to two engines, and only one of them would get him any money.

 

“I’ve got to be going now, unless there was anything else you needed?” 

 

“No,” Piccolo replied, sullenly. He couldn’t see much reason in continuing to talk to Freeza. The phone clicked off on him, and Piccolo placed it in the cradle. He stared at the plastic shell, and wondered, why in the hell, the supermarket version of his father had sounded like Freeza. Just a memory that the creature had picked up, he supposed. He wished it had been anyone else. Now, whenever he looked at his father’s hologram, it was all he could think of.

 

Piccolo picked up the base of the hologram, and poked his finger through the rotating image. He watched it shimmer in place, before he set it back down, and stared dismally at the image. He wondered what his father’s voice  _ had _ sounded like. He had practically no memories of him.

 

He was drawn out of his reverie by a knock on his door. Piccolo quickly stood up, and stomped over. He grabbed his gun, and pressed it to his shoulder. After almost shooting Chi Chi last time, he was a bit hesitant to just assume Bulma had come to off him, and thus he opened his door a bit more carefully this time.

 

He let out a breath of relief as it was, in fact, Chi Chi, with Gohan in tow. Chi Chi gave him a smile, and Gohan waved from where he hung on Chi Chi’s back.

 

“I came to check something,” Chi Chi said, as she stepped past him into his house. Piccolo flushed, and stared desperately around, aware of how dismal his place looked compared to their house. Chi Chi cast a cursory look around, and Piccolo felt the tips of his ears heat up.

 

Quickly, he looked at the bundle in Chi Chi’s hands, and she lifted it up a bit higher for him. He realized it was purple fabric. He furrowed his brow. Chi Chi saw his look, and passed the fabric back to Gohan, who held it tight to his chest. Chi Chi then drew a long measuring tape out of her pocket, and stepped up to Piccolo.

 

He blinked, and suddenly the measuring tape was around his hips. He yelped, but Chi Chi merely tugged tighter.

 

“Shush, now. I gotta memorize these.”

 

“The hell are you doing?” Piccolo spluttered, as Chi Chi’s face drew closer to the tape so she could check the numbers.

 

“Taking your measurements, obviously.” Chi Chi spoke as if he were particularly stupid. She then crouched down, and ran the tape along his legs. Piccolo stood unnaturally still, and stared at Chi Chi’s bun. Gohan craned his neck backwards to smile up at Piccolo.

 

“Your old pants are pretty gross,” Gohan said, “so mom wants to make you some new ones!”

 

“Wha - ,”

 

“Well, I was just going to buy them,” Chi Chi sighed, and began measuring his calf. “But I couldn’t find any purple ones. That’s all you wear, isn’t it?” Piccolo blinked. “Either way, it won’t take me long to sew these up, and you can have something nice, and a little more durable than these old sweats.” She plucked at his sweatpants, and made a rather sour face. 

 

“Why would you?” Piccolo demanded.

 

Chi Chi furrowed her brow, just as she slid the tape measure up around his thigh. He gulped.

 

“Simple, ain’t it? You don’t have anyone over here to take care of you - nonsense, really. In my experience, people don’t do very well on their own. I don’t fully know about how you came to Barren Grove, but whoever put you here should’ve helped you out a little bit.” She stood, then, and gave him a soft punch to the stomach. “We’re neighbors, right?”

 

Piccolo gave a slow nod, more confused than anything. 

 

“Right.” Chi Chi gave him a smile, and turned on her heel. “Dinner tonight is gonna be at six, okay?” Then she took off, and Piccolo was left staring at the dust that swirled behind her. He quickly hurried to his makeshift table, and picked up the clock. He realized it was only three, and forced himself to go tinker with some of the objects he kept lying around. After several stung fingers, and a few cuts, he realized it was now five.

 

He recalled the thorough check he’d been given last time he’d gone to Chi Chi’s house, and scrambled over to his rusty sink. He squirted the soap into his hands, and desperately scrubbed at them til they ached. He snagged up his toothbrush, and brushed with a startling ferocity, until his gums bled. Then, Piccolo hastily pulled off his clothes and shook them out. He was startled, when he got to his pants, to realize that the strange orange ball was still in his pockets. He gave it another curious look, before tossing it back in his pocket. He made a mental note to run some tests on it, and potentially see if what it was made of. He didn’t have much at his disposal, but he could potentially send it to the Colds if nothing else.

 

Once he was thoroughly cleaned, Piccolo walked across the sand to the Sons front door. Before he could even knock, Gohan swung the door open, and greeted him rather ecstatically. Chi Chi soon appeared, and grabbed her equipment from the shelf near the door. Piccolo was ready this time, and complied quickly to Chi Chi’s ridiculous demands.

 

“Perfectly clean,” he smirked, to which Chi Chi scoffed.

 

“You say it like it’s an amazing feat! You should be clean all the time!”

 

“We live in a desert,” Piccolo replied. “Bit easier said than done.”

 

“Gohan n’ I stay clean,” Chi Chi sniffed.

 

“We sure do,” Gohan said. He had hopped up to his seat at the table, and Piccolo joined him, while Chi Chi began shuffling around the kitchen. “Momma’s very careful about germs n’ stuff,” he explained, “since so many of them can kill you and hurt you.”

 

Piccolo shrugged. “I suppose I’ve never cared very much. I’ve had to be elbow-deep in a giant glob alien. Last thing I was worried about was whether or not his germs were going to kill me.”

 

Gohan seemed in awe. “Hey, do you think I could go with you to an alien site one time?”

 

“Absolutely not!” Both Piccolo and Chi Chi cried. They gave each other surprised looks, as Gohan jutted out his lower lip. He thumbed the side of his placemat.

 

“Why not?”

 

“Kid, it’s dangerous as he-,” Piccolo broke off as Chi Chi turned sharply to stare at him. “-as heck,” he corrected. Chi Chi gave him a quick nod. “I’ve had several near misses…” He trailed off. His most current one was fresh in his memory. The telekinetic supermarket monster would have killed him if Bulma and Vegeta hadn’t appeared. He stared at Chi Chi’s back. He hadn’t actually told her what had happened. He told her that the monster created illusions, but he hadn’t told her much beyond that.

 

Instead of looking properly scared, Gohan only looked more intrigued. 

 

“My friend at school, Videl,” Gohan said, “was really jealous when I told her you were my neighbor.”

 

Piccolo furrowed his brow. “Why?”

 

“Because you’re a real alien!” Gohan enthused. “She really wants to see you, but she can’t come over.” Once more, Gohan looked a little put-out.

 

“Her dad’s scared of you,” Chi Chi said. Piccolo blinked. “Says he’s scared of the… ah… let’s say ‘things aliens do’.”

 

Piccolo flushed. Of course. Why did so many people think he was interested in probing them? It was something Piccolo had never understood. He looked at Gohan’s forlorn face, however, and felt that strange sense of guilt crash over him. The kid looked pretty upset about not being able to have his friend over. Piccolo shook it off, though. It wasn’t something he could help.

 

“It’s a darn shame,” Gohan piped up again. “But - hey - did you like the cacti we picked out for you?” He was beaming, and Piccolo shifted under that gaze.

 

“Sure, kid,” he muttered.

 

“Gohan picked out most of them,” Chi Chi said, and dropped a plate in front of Gohan and Piccolo. “I’m glad you didn’t kick ‘em up the night I set ‘em there.” She arched a brow at him as she sat down, motioning for everyone to dig in.

 

“Well,” Piccolo mumbled, stabbing at a piece of food, “it’s not like they’re hurting anything.”

 

Dinner passed much as it did before, and afterwards, Gohan gathered up the dishes and began to wash them. He was told to go to his independent reading after he was done, while Chi Chi eagerly motioned for Piccolo to follow her.

 

Startled, he walked after her to the stairs, where he could see large no-slip strips placed on each one, and a large railing that she made him hold onto as they climbed.

 

“Staircase accidents are very common,” Chi Chi said over her shoulder. “I read an article one time where  a man tripped over his own beard, smashed in his nose, and was unable to recover due to the shards that were left splintered.” She said all this rather calmly, and Piccolo stared, mystified, at her back.

 

Upstairs, there were similar pictures and personal touches in the hall, but Chi Chi didn’t let him stop to take it in. Instead, she led him to a room that was filled with fabric, crafts, and what looked like several failed attempts at a solar system. There were a few toys scattered as well, but Chi Chi sidestepped them to grab a large pair of purple pants from the table with the sewing machine. She thrust them at Piccolo.

 

“Try these on, big fella.” Piccolo took them from her hands. “I plan on making quite a few,” she said, turning on her heel to face the wall, “but I need to make sure they fit you properly.”

 

Piccolo waited for just a second, before clearing his throat. “You’re not going to leave?” he finally demanded.

 

“Why should I?” Chi Chi scoffed. “I’m not going to look, believe me.”

 

The tips of his ears burned as he shuffled back into a corner, and hastily kicked off the pants he’d been wearing. He accidentally knocked over one of the solar systems, and as his pants hit the ground, he heard something go rolling. With a grimace, he quickly pulled on the trousers that Chi Chi had made him. He was surprised - they fit far nicer, with a nice elastic band that he could tighten with pull strings. It draped just the way he liked around his shoes, and the fabric had a lot of give to it.

 

“You decent?” Chi Chi asked, and Piccolo grunted, still observing his new pants. She turned, and squinted her eyes up at him as she drew closer. “Well?”

 

“It’s uh - a nice fit,” he mumbled. He stared down at his feet. He’d never received anything before. He shifted in place, while Chi Chi walked around him.

 

“You can wear that pair home,” Chi Chi finally said. “I have a pattern drafted. I’d say - three or four more pairs will do you good?”

 

Piccolo rubbed at the base of his antennae, and gave a small nod. 

 

“Chi Chi…” Piccolo trailed off, as Chi Chi had begun picking things up around the room.

 

“Yes?” She stopped, and turned to face him, her arms full of scraps that she quickly stuffed in a plastic tote.

 

“About that supermarket… there was more I needed to tell you,” he coughed. He didn’t know why he was telling her, but she was staring at him with those large eyes, and he  _ hoped _ that she’d say something much more helpful than what Freeza had supplied.

 

She blinked, but quickly grabbed her seat, and waved at Piccolo. He quickly told her about what had happened, rattling off the events rather swiftly, while making sure to leave out the fact that she and Gohan were in his vision. He elaborated on the seeing his father, and how, exactly, Bulma and Vegeta had saved him.

 

“I can’t believe she saved you - now I can’t be as mad,” Chi Chi snapped, and punched her thigh. “I suppose it’s lucky you didn’t die, though…” Her eyes softened. “I’m sure it was real hard to see your father like that.”

 

“Not really,” Piccolo mumbled. “Didn’t know him much… I’m more concerned about this Bulma woman. She was fully prepared to take down that alien - and my employer knows nothing about her.”

 

Chi Chi pursed her lips. “Yes… all that paperwork she bypassed… perhaps she has connections?”

 

“Connections big enough to get around the military?” Piccolo scoffed. 

 

Chi Chi shrugged. “I guess I just never thought of the military as all that impressive,” she said bitterly. “My husband thought it was great, but…”

 

Piccolo jerked involuntarily, and stared at her. “You - have a husband?” Inwardly, he immediately cursed himself. He didn’t know why he was so surprised. But, he’d never seen the man before.

 

“ _ Had _ a husband,” Chi Chi said. Her expression was stony. “Military, y’know?”

 

Piccolo grimaced. He didn’t know what it was like to lose someone. The closest he had was his father - and… well, he’d never really known him.

 

“You look uncomfortable.” Chi Chi stood from her seat, and shrugged. “Don’t worry, I’m not going to cry. I told him I didn’t want him leaving to fight. He did. That’s it.” She walked stiffly past him. In spite of his better judgement, Piccolo glanced around as he followed Chi Chi from the room, wondering which one of the pictures was him. “You’re not going to find his picture,” she muttered in a low voice. “They made me n’ Gohan cry, so I smashed ‘em and burned ‘em all.” 

 

Piccolo put his hands in his pockets. “I wasn’t looking,” he mumbled.

 

“Sure you weren’t, big fella.” Chi Chi had her arms locked tight around her torso, and she led Piccolo to the front door. “It’s therapeutic, I’ll say that.” And Piccolo suddenly had a vision of her, standing in front of a roaring fire, with big ugly tears flowing down her face as she dumped picture after picture into the furnace.

 

He felt something like admiration as he looked at her. 

 

When he got home, and lay in his bed, he stared at the green haze around his room and wondered if he’d ever have the strength it would take to destroy the hologram of his father. He didn’t think he ever could. He still remembered being young, sitting in the middle of this very house in the dead of the night, terrified of everything that existed outside in the night. He knew that bigger, scarier aliens existed, and he knew that he’d have to fight them if he were to make it one day to his father. It had been so dark, until he’d woken Freeza up one too many times with calls in the middle of the night.

 

Thoroughly annoyed, Freeza had sent him the hologram through the mail.

 

_ “It’s what we salvaged from your father’s ship _ ,” Freeza had spat out, “ _ it should give you plenty of light. Now do shut up. Daddy and I have rather important things to be doing. _ ”

 

Piccolo had clicked it on for the first time, and had sat in a pool of green light, his knees huddled to his chest, and had slept properly. And now, as an adult, he did the same thing.

 

In the morning, when he woke, his radar buzzed, and he quickly hopped out of bed. He hurriedly dragged on his leather jacket, and his brand new pants, before he hurried out the door. Gohan was already gone for school, and Piccolo assumed that Chi Chi was gone to drop him off, as her car was gone. He put the car in gear, and pulled out, shooting out into the desert.

 

He was ecstatic as he pulled up to the wreckage, and realized that Bulma was nowhere to be seen. Before she could appear and destroy everything, he took off through the sand. He swung his gun up easily, and kicked open the ruined front door. It was a standard ship, and he knew these rather well. Inside, he glanced around, but was startled to find that there were no corpses.

 

Piccolo frowned, and dropped his gun. He supposed there could be hidden hatches, but he didn’t recall this particular model having any. Sand had already filtered in from the wind outside, and he couldn’t see any panels where a creature could have stowed itself away. 

 

He shuffled over to the control panel, and saw that it had been damaged in the crash - as per usual. After twenty some odd years of doing this job, Piccolo still felt compelled to check and see what the damages were. He knelt down, and tugged out a panel, hastily rummaging fruitlessly through wires. Apparently, the ship had crashed due to a large malfunction. 

 

Cursing, he slammed the panel down, and yanked out some pieces he wanted to keep. He stuffed them in his brand new pants, and wished a fiery hell upon Bulma Briefs for taunting him with a functioning spaceship. He continued around the ship, ripping out pieces that he needed, thankful for the lack of interruptions. 

 

He made sure that his gun was always ready to swing around at a moments notice, however. 

 

After he finished his work inside the ship, he carried part of the pile out to the Pilot, and tossed some of the pieces into the back of the SUV. He sat back two wipe sweat from his forehead, when he noticed something rather strange. 

 

Leading from the front of the spaceship, a scorching trail of what looked like radioactive slime carved its way through the sand, back in the direction of the town. Piccolo slowly lowered the hatch down on the Pilot, and muttered a rather heartfelt, “Shit,” before he hurriedly ran to the front seat, and almost flooded the car in his desperation to get it going.

 

He slammed his foot down on the gas, and fought to gain traction as sand spewed out from underneath his tires. He floored it, and followed the trail all the way back to where the road for Barren Grove picked up. He made sure not to run over the slime, and, as he reached the asphalt, he was thankful that he’d done so. A large rut had made its way into the street, and black, bubbling tar rose and swelled from where the alien had clearly been.

 

Piccolo glanced at the clock, and realized Gohan and Chi Chi would just be getting home.

 

He pressed the gas even harder, and heard his engine groan in protest. All he could think about was what this creature could do to human skin. As he crested a hill (the car shooting over it so fast that Piccolo felt his stomach drop somewhere in Massachusetts) he saw the Son household, and his worst fear was confirmed. 

 

Chi Chi and Gohan both stood, eyes wide open in front of their house, as a serpentine alien stood at attention. Piccolo couldn’t see how he could have missed the thing leaving the ship, as it now towered at a sickening, oozing, burbling seven feet tall. It looked like it had massive blisters and pustules that constantly burst, leaving Chi Chi’s perfectly manicured lawn a charred mess beneath its webbed feet.

 

It roared, and Piccolo, without thinking, hurled himself out of his driver side door, and sent the Pilot careening into the creature’s side.

 

The alien screeched, and Piccolo’s shoulder hit the lawn with a sickening force. He heard something crunch, and his gun stabbed painfully into his gut as he took several painful rolls, before the strap snapped, and it flew away from him. After several more rotations, Piccolo desperately dug his claws into the grass, raking himself into place as he stopped centimeters away from the acidic trail.

 

He gritted his teeth to fight through the pain, and attempted to sit up as fast as he could. All around him, the world spun as his shoulder protested thoroughly to his insistence on moving. When he regained his balance, he heard Chi Chi screaming his name, along with Gohan’s sobs.

 

Dismayed, Piccolo realized that his Pilot had not done as much damage as he could have hoped. The car - along with his shot at money, was simply being absorbed into the creature, as it let loose a hellish screech. The metal of the Pilot creaked and groaned as the alien’s body ate into it, and melted it.

 

“Son of a bitch,” Piccolo snarled. The creature turned large, bulbous eyes in his direction, and roared. It lunged at him, the Pilot still dangling from its stomach. Piccolo dived out of the way, avoiding the alien’s swinging arm. He narrowly avoided the acid that flew wildly from the alien’s limb.

 

He tried to reorient himself, and to remember where exactly his gun had ended up, but he was distracted by having to dodge from another blow that the alien threw his way. As he ducked, he glanced at the porch, where he could see Gohan and Chi Chi still stood.

 

“ARE YOU TWO NUTS?!” he bellowed. “GET IN THE HOU - !” Piccolo’s (rightful) tirade was cut short, as the creature swung once more, and Piccolo, distracted, didn’t dodge it fast enough. He managed to avoid the actual hit, but the acid landed on his jacket, and quickly ate through it.

 

Piccolo roared in pain as he desperately flung the jacket away. He dropped to the ground in agony, and swiped his shoulder against the grass, painfully aware of the burning that was flaring across his bicep. When he looked down, he could see a hole forming in his skin. He sucked in a ragged breath, and clasped one hand over the bloodless wound that was burned into him.

 

He needed to find his gun. He had to kill this thing. If it were to get ahold of the Sons - 

 

He found his gun. 

 

It was, unfortunately, in Chi Chi’s unsteady hands.

 

“Chi Chi, what the hell are you doing?!” Piccolo snarled, much quieter than he wanted it to be, but the pain was keeping his jaw wired shut. He could see Gohan shaking on the porch, much like his mother was shaking as she hoisted the gun up. Either she didn’t hear Piccolo, or she was ignoring him, and he couldn’t be certain which. He rose, wobbling, to his feet, and went to move towards her.

 

Chi Chi fired, but it was clear she had never shot a gun before. The recoil shocked her, and her whole body lurched as the gun kicked back into her shoulder. She yelped, and the bullet went flying off target. The gun crashed back down to the grass, and fired once more. This time the bullet went at an angle, and shot clear through the alien’s brains.

 

Piccolo stared, amazed, as the alien collapsed in a large heap in Chi Chi’s lawn.

 

“You killed it…” Piccolo blinked rapidly, but Chi Chi had already rushed over to him.

 

“What the - what is that thing doing in the city?!” Chi Chi sobbed, and Piccolo had a hard time identifying if she was afraid, surprised, angry, or all three. She grabbed his arm a bit roughly, and Piccolo felt another bout of pain rock through his body as he swayed on the spot.

 

“I don’t know,” Piccolo murmured, just as confused, “they usually don’t survive crashes… or if they are, they’re injured…” He shook his head, attempting to clear the pain away. Chi Chi’s large, scared eyes, however, fell to his arm.

 

“Is that… is that a hole?” she whispered.

 

Piccolo glanced down, and felt faint at the sight. “Apparently,” he gritted out, and quickly averted his gaze. He adjusted his shirt sleeve so that Chi Chi could no longer see it as well, but he could still feel her eyes lingering on it. She drew away, however, when she realized Gohan was still on the porch crying. He clutched at his schoolbag like a lifeline, and Piccolo watched as Chi Chi rocketed up the stairs to bundle him up in a hug.

 

It was as Piccolo was staring a the wreckage of his car, and watching the dead body of the alien ooze its way across the grass, that he overheard chopper blades. He squinted his eyes upwards, just as the afternoon sky was clearly disturbed by a rather large helicopter, baring its way down onto their little section of the road. 

 

He saw the giant blue C’s emblazoned on the side of the aircraft, and growled as Bulma jumped out in a rather large yellow hazmat suit. She quickly approached the corpse, and ignored Piccolo when he yelled at her. Chi Chi quickly rose to her feet, but Piccolo motioned for her to stay where she was, with a pointed look down at his wounded arm.

 

They watched wordlessly as Bulma waded into the creature, with that strange radar-like machine that Piccolo had seen her with prior to. Cursing, she kicked her way back to the helicopter, removed the gut-stained suit, and dropped it into Chi Chi’s yard.

 

“It’s not here! Another false alarm!” Piccolo heard her call over the still-spinning blades. Bulma then clambered back into her ship, and it rose back up into the sky as if nothing at all had happened. Piccolo watched it go, and wondered what the hell Bulma was after.

 

Piccolo dropped unceremoniously into the grass, and realized that without adrenaline to keep him going, he could feel the true strength of the pain lapping angrily at him. He felt his head swim, and he slowly lowered himself back onto the grass. He could hear Chi Chi and Gohan shouting loudly, but it grew dimmer as his eyes closed. 

 

He heard the faint murmur of voices, and Chi Chi, screaming loudly as she fought with… someone. Piccolo didn’t know who, nor what about, but he could hear the fiery ferociousness in her tone. Whatever it was, she eventually quieted down, and Piccolo was aware of nothing.


	5. Radio Station

“You absolute imbecile! What the hell were you thinking?! Do you know how much covering up I’m going to have to do? Why on  _ earth _ would you go barging in like that? Ohh I could wring your neck right now, you know? After I give you the perfect safety measurements, this is how you act!”

  
  


Floating.

 

_ It was dark, just like always. He sat, his knees pulled up to His chest, as He clutched at His pants. Outside, He could hear a thousand noises, none of which He knew. A hiccup ruptured in His chest, and He scrubbed at His eyes. He knew it would get Him in trouble, but…  _

 

_ He dove for phone. The men had shown Him how it worked, before they left Him, however long ago. He couldn’t recall how long He’d been in this house - how long He’d been out of the facility. Snot dribbled down around His chin, and He hastily stabbed at the numbers, the plastic cold in His hands. _

 

_ It rang. _

 

“Daddy’s incredibly pissed, you realize that, right? And this woman - she’s still giving you troubles? We can’t deal with this right now! Once you get back, you’d better figure out why, exactly, this Briefs woman is around! These two…”

 

Bubbles.

 

_ He sobbed, and flattened His ears back against His skull as a nasally, high-pitched voice rang through the receiver. _

 

_ “What? Are you calling me again?! Do you know how angry you’re making daddy?” Freeza was always harsh, but he was always that one that dealt with Him. _

 

_ “I’m sorry…” He whispered. “It’s dark here… Why can’t there be lights - like in the faci - ,” _

 

_ “I told you you’re not to speak about that place,” Freeza spat, interrupting Him. He pressed His lips together, and choked on more of his sobs. He heard a groan, and Freeza shifted the phone. “Now, listen here - if daddy finds out about how much you’re whining, then he’ll remove you.” _

 

_ “I want to be removed!” He cried. “I hate it here! It’s gross! There’s sand everywhere! I want to go back!” _

 

_ “No, you don’t,” Freeza said maliciously. “If we withdraw you, then you’ll never get your chance to see your father. Do I make myself clear?” _

 

_ “Yes,” He said, mutinously. He sucked at His lip, and glowered at the bedspread. Outside, He heard something howl, and he broke off into another cry. “Please! Can’t you stay on the phone with me? I’m scared! There’s… there’s stuff out there!” _

 

_ “Of course there is!” Freeza barked. “And you’d better get used to it!” _

 

“Wake up, would you? This is no time to be sleeping! You should have fully recovered by now, you inconsiderate brat.”

 

Thumping.

 

_ “I’m worried… the people that live here… they don’t like me.” His lip quivered, and he heard Freeza give a snort of disgust. _

 

_ “And why would they? You’re rather repulsive, aren’t you? And besides - you’re not  _ there _ to be friendly with the locals, you’re there to get ship parts, and you’d do well to stay focused. The moment we think you’re slacking, it’s right back.” _

 

_ “Yes, sir….” His voice trailed off, and He furrowed His brow. He wondered if He could get Freeza to stay on the phone longer… “Um, the people… they asked me what my name is…?” _

 

_ “It’s Unit N-002,” Freeza snapped. _

 

_ “But… They said that’s not a name.” He tightened His grip on the phone, and His claws clattered against the plastic. He hated the moniker Unit N-002. The men in white uniforms had always called Him that. But He knew that wasn’t a real name, even before the people of Barren Grove told Him so. He wanted a real name, like Freeza’s. _

 

_ “What does it matter?” Freeza said, wearily. “Do you need a name? Just call yourself something - who cares?” _

 

_ He jutted His bottom lip out, mutinously. “I can’t name myself. Your parents name you. Even I know that!” _

 

_ “Fine,” Freeza snarled, his voice losing its typical, lilting edge. “Just name yourself after you father, you insufferable brat!” _

 

_ “What was his name?” He asked with baited breath. They didn’t tell Him much about His father… only that he had crashed here, but had managed to escape somehow. In the wreckage, He was left behind, freshly hatched. Nobody had told Him why his father had left Him behind, but He could only assume it was because His father knew He would follow - one day. _

 

_ “Piccolo,” Freeza replied, then hung up the phone rather quickly.  _

 

_ Piccolo… his chest swelled with emotion, and he slowly placed the phone back on the cradle.  _

 

**

 

Piccolo tried to breathe in, but there was something covering his mouth. He fought, momentarily, before someone rapt their knuckles against the glass. He opened his eyes blearily, and watched the world swim hazily in front of him. He was in a place he hadn’t seen since he was a child.

 

He moved his head, slowly, and saw that a man stood in front of him, clothed completely in white. A helmet covered his features, so Piccolo couldn’t see what he looked like. For a moment, Piccolo feared that he’d somehow been transported back in time. When he looked down, however, he saw that he was still grown, and was simply submerged in a tank of fluorescent blue fluid.

 

The man in white had stepped to a control panel to the side of the circular, equally white room. He pressed several buttons, and slowly, the water began to drain out through the floor of the tube. As it drained, Piccolo slowly sank with it, until his feet touched the ground, and he had to lean, unsteadily, up against the glass. He wished he had clothes, as the man pressed another series of buttons, and the apparatus covering Piccolo’s mouth removed itself, and receded up into the ceiling, and the door swished open.

 

“Unit N-002,” the man’s voice was muffled, as he made a sharp motion for Piccolo to exit the tank, “Colonel Freeza would like to speak to you.”

 

And of course, when Colonel Freeza wanted to speak to him, that meant sitting in a different circular room, with speakers mounted to the walls. 

 

Piccolo sat uncomfortably on the tile floor, and glowered at the man that escorted him in. 

 

“Can I have my clothes back?” Piccolo snapped. The man dutifully ignored him, and shut the door as he left. Freeza’s voice poured over the speakers.

 

“Ohoho, awfully demanding, aren’t we, Piccolo?” Freeza oozed. There was a dangerous undercurrent in his voice. “But, you’ll have your clothes back, soon enough. We’ll send you back on your merry way… after we talk, of course.”

 

“Lovely,” Piccolo snarled.

 

“I enjoy it as much as you do, I can assure you. Now, here is the thing… you’ve just ruined another car, have sent in no space ship parts, and now we had to clean up your neighbor’s rather sizzled yard.”

 

Piccolo could feel vague recollections of a lizard-lava alien, and Chi Chi killing the damned thing.

 

“Unfortunately, we’ve also had to deal with the fact that she’s raising… quite the fuss,” Freeza’s voice halted, and Piccolo couldn’t help the smirk that overtook his face. There was no telling what Chi Chi had been doing. “I wanted to eradicate her completely,” his grin fell quickly, “but daddy says it’s not worth the trouble. Regardless, you’re not fully healed yet, but we can’t take the risk of her getting anymore… outspoken.”

 

Piccolo glowered up at the speakers. “The hell could she have done that’s so bad?”

 

Freeza pointedly ignored him. “Now, your wounds are fully healed, blah, blah, blah, but you’ll be fatigued for a few days. But - unlucky you!” The colonel practically purred, “You’ll be doing rather hard labor in a desert. You can’t afford to start slipping now.”

 

“Fine. Can I go now?”

 

“Not quite, dear Piccolo, not quite. You see, there’s the issue of… The Briefs woman.” Freeza’s voice turned sour. “It turns out she’s got quite the big nose to go poking around. Keep an eye out for her.”

 

“That’s not very specific. What the hell do you expect me to do?”

 

“Find out what she’s doing in Barren Grove,” Freeza snapped, harsh enough to make his voice crackle over the speakers.

 

“She’s… looking for something,” Piccolo said. “How did she get around the military, anyways?”

 

“You’re not in a position to ask questions,” Freeza spat. His voice quavered, and it sounded as if he had slammed his fist into a table near the microphone. “Do as I’ve said.”

 

“Fine,” Piccolo said sullenly. “And what about my car?”

 

“Yes, that was unfortunate… But alas, not our problem. We just gave you that one. Try getting some actual work done, and then perhaps we can discuss getting you another one.” Freeza sounded particularly satisfied. Piccolo could hear Freeza lean closer to the mic. “And now, of course, you know we can’t have you see that you’re leaving this non disclosed area, so…”

 

The door hissed back open, and there stood several men in white uniforms once more. One of them held a particularly large syringe, while another had his clothes held in a neat pile. Piccolo cursed under his breath, but didn’t fight when the needle entered his skin. He swayed on his feet, and lapsed back out of consciousness.

 

**

 

“ - ccolo! Piccolo!”

 

Piccolo blearily opened his eyes, and immediately squinted them back up as sunlight assaulted his eyes. He waited a few more seconds, before fully coming to. Underneath him, he felt sand and grass, and realized that he couldn’t be in his room, let alone his own house. He sat up, and angrily swiped at his tongue where sand had crusted up.

 

“Hey, buddy, are you okay?”

 

The person who’d woken him up - it was the bald police officer, the one from Chi Chi’s neighborhood meeting. He stared, uncomprehendingly, at the sweating bald man. He was in full gear, and his badge practically blinded Piccolo every time he moved.

 

“The hell am I doing here…?” Piccolo glanced at his surroundings, and realized he was at the rec center. It was devoid of people, aside from him and the officer.

 

“I was wondering that myself,” the officer said kindly. He picked up his walkie. “I’ve found Piccolo,” he reported into it, and there was a fuzzy crackle in response. “Are you aware that you’ve been missing?”

 

Piccolo glowered at him. “Who the hell says that?”

 

“Uh - well, Mrs. Son, actually,” the officer said. He rubbed at the back of his sunburnt neck. “She’s kinda leading a crusade down by the local storefronts.”

 

“She’s all right?” Piccolo demanded. She’d been fine, last he’d seen her - but that  _ alien _ had still been in her yard. He was certain that she’d killed it, but…

 

“Oh - uh, yeah?” the officer laughed nervously. “I mean, last I checked.”

 

“KRILLIN!” The voice on the walkie was no longer a static crackle. Officer Krillin started, and glanced down at the walkie. “DID YOU SAY YOU FOUND PICCOLO?!” There were sounds of distress on the other side, and Krillin pinched the bridge of his small nose. 

 

“Ma-am, please, this is for police use only - ,” a voice said, distantly.

 

“SHUT YER MOUTH, BOY!” Piccolo felt a rush of warmth, as he recognized Chi Chi hollering at the top of her lungs. “KRILLIN! YOU SAID PICCOLO WAS THERE, ARE YOU CERTAIN?!”

 

Wordlessly, Krillin passed his walkie over to Piccolo. He looked rather put upon.

 

“I think I’m pretty hard to mistake,” Piccolo said, unable to disguise the amusement in his voice.

 

“PICCOLO! PICCOLO I’M GONNA KILL YOU?! YOU HEAR ME!? -  _ ma’am, please, I need this device _ \- GET OFFA ME! GET YER BUTT DOWN TO THE STORE STRIP! OFFICER KRILLIN, DON’T YOU LET HIM RUN OFF NOW!”

 

“Roger that, ma’am,” Krillin sighed. He stood, and retrieved his walkie from Piccolo. “C’mon. I’ve got the squad car parked in the lot.” Piccolo slowly stood up, and fell into step behind the officer. The man was so short, Piccolo cast a heavy shadow over him.

 

“Why does she think I’m missing?” Piccolo asked. He crossed his arms, and tried to sound as disinterested as possible.

 

“Because you were,” Krillin said, bemused. “Least, it seemed that way. You disappeared for well over a week. Mrs. Son… well, she was pretty upset about it.” They reached the police car, and Piccolo ducked to get in. He saw that adjustments had been made to the seats so that Krillin could easily drive.

 

Piccolo glanced out of the window as the car thrummed on. It served as a reminder that he was shit out of luck whenever it came to going back out into the desert. He needed ship parts, but that was going to be rather hard to do without a vehicle.

 

He frowned. A week… had he been gone that long? He had no memory of how much time had elapsed back at the facility. He recalled Freeza complaining about Chi Chi… was this perhaps what he’d meant? He didn’t see what she could have done, outside of assault local police enforcement - and he doubted Freeza cared about that.

 

“Mrs. Son started up this whole… campaign, y’see?” Krillin spoke up. It was a straight stretch to the only shopping area in Barren Grove - barring ones planted there by aliens. “She feels like the government took you, and weren’t going to give you back.”

 

Piccolo snorted.

 

“Either way,” Krillin continued, “she’s been raising awareness about it, and hosting these rallies. She’s been trying to call local officials, but…” There the officer’s voice faded away, and his face grew slack. Piccolo stared. “But they must be on vacation!” Krillin suddenly finished cheerily, as if nothing had happened.

 

Piccolo wondered what the hell that was, but he was distracted, as the few stores in Barren Grove were already appearing on the horizon. He was surprised to see that there were rather large banners hung across each of the buildings, and that there was a massive gathering of people all over the streets and sidewalks. As Krillin began to slow down as they neared the pedestrians, Piccolo felt his face burning as he realized what was going on.

 

The banners all had a crudely drawn alien of his likeness on them, and were all emblazoned with - “ **TAKE OUR ALIEN? PICCO-NONO** ”, and “ **PHONE PICCOLO HOME** ”. Mortified, he saw that many of the pedestrians were also wearing shirts with similar slogans on them, and in the middle of it all was Chi Chi. She stood on a large podium with a bullhorn ( _ as if she needs that _ ! Piccolo thought viciously). 

 

When she spotted Krillin’s car, she gave a rather large crow through the bullhorn. “HE’S BACK!” she shouted, and all around her people parted as she barrelled through the crowd to the car. Piccolo glanced desperately at Krillin, but the bald man was very pointedly looking elsewhere.

 

Chi Chi got to his side of the car, and ripped the door open. 

 

“Where have you been?!” She screamed in his face. Her hands clutched at his shoulders, and she gave him a rather vigorous shake. “Do you know how worried I was?” she demanded. “One minute, that freaky thing is in my yard, the next, these men show up and take you away!”

 

To Piccolo, it sounded as if she were scared, but her face was stormy, and her tone malicious.

 

“Would you calm down?” he hissed, and his ears pinioned themselves back against his skull. “And what is all this?” He gestured at one of the buildings ( _ Denim for Days _ ), where he could see green peering down at him. It was horrific… and then he realized Chi Chi was wearing one of those ridiculous shirts, too.

 

“I was trying to get ahold of some government officials,” Chi Chi snapped, before her eyes glazed over. Piccolo frowned, and saw that it was the same thing that had happened to Krillin. Just as before, she came back around rather quickly. “But they’re on vacation! So - instead of waiting around, I decided to launch this effort to get you back from whoever took you.”

 

“My employer took me,” Piccolo grunted, unhappy with the amount of people that were gathering around the squad car. “Get rid of all this.” In the crowd, he saw a woman staring at him rather intently… he thought she looked familiar…

 

“I can’t just pack all this up!” Chi Chi protested. “Everyone here banded together just for you! Can’t you be even a bit grateful?!”

 

“I don’t even know these people,” Piccolo hissed. The people were clustering closer than before. From behind Chi Chi, one of the men spoke up.

 

“Hey, so uh - where the free food? If the alien’s back, then…” Several people murmured in agreement. Chi Chi turned a rather severe glare on them all - the likes of which Piccolo could feel even with her back turned to him - and many of the people dispersed.

 

She turned back to him. “We’ll talk about this more, later,” she grumbled, and crossed her arms over her hideous shirt. “And then I’ll kick yer butt.”

 

“The hell did I do wrong?”

 

“You worried me!” Chi Chi stomped her foot, and Piccolo gritted his teeth.

 

“You had no reason to be worried! You worried yourself!”

 

“Last I saw you - you had a hole in your arm, and were passed out!” Chi Chi screeched, face red with passion as she balled her fists up. People had turned towards them once more, craning their necks to get a better view of the five foot woman chewing out an alien. Chi Chi didn’t seem to care, however, as she had angry tears forming in her eyes. “Then you got carted off by those men - and they wouldn’t listen to me!”

 

Piccolo kept his frown in place. “I’m fine,” he insisted, in a quiet voice. “But I’m not going to stay here and get gawked at.” He turned sharply to Krillin.

 

“Um, sorry but… I actually need to stay here. This many people in a public setting…” Krillin cast a glance up to the podium where Chi Chi had been, and Piccolo could see a rather winded officer on the ground. “That and… I gotta relieve him.” 

 

Disgruntled, Piccolo exited the vehicle, and watched as the gathered crowd retracted backwards. He stared at them all in disgust. Chi Chi grabbed his hand, and jerked him behind her, as he attempted to ignore the hot, itching feeling that crawled around his skin at being surrounded by this many people. He wanted to leave, but Chi Chi was tugging him - and it wasn’t like he could walk all the way back to his house.

 

“ATTENTION!” Chi Chi had reached the podium, but had mercifully let Piccolo stay lower to the ground, where he attempted to avoid eye contact with all of the people around him. He’d never been in such a high density crowd. “WE HAVE PICCOLO BACK! I’D LIKE TO THANK YOU ALL FOR THE CONTRIBUTIONS YOU’VE GIVEN!” 

 

A murmur broke out across the crowd, and people continued to look at Piccolo. He heard a few mutters of, ‘God, it’s ugly up close’, and many comments on his skin. He felt his face burn a deep purple, as Chi Chi clambered down from her elevated podium. She dropped down beside him, and glanced into his embarrassed face.

 

“I’m sorry if you don’t like this,” Chi Chi bit out, “but I had to do what I had to do. Now, c’mon.” She grabbed at his hand once more, and pulled him along. He remained silent, and turned his harsh gaze on anyone that tried to approach him. They reached the edge of the crowd rather easily, with the two frightening away anyone stupid enough to come close. Around the back of  _ Robo-Arcade _ , Piccolo saw Chi Chi’s car. 

 

Relieved, he clambered into the passenger seat, and Chi Chi quickly joined him.

 

“I can’t leave yet,” she said, “I’ll have to clean up after all this is done… Officer Krillin made me promise.” She devolved into grumbled complaints. She seemed to regain herself, however, as she breathed out, and pushed some of her hair back behind her ears. “Okay… what happened?”

 

“My employer took me back,” Piccolo explained. He crossed his arms over his chest, and sneered at Chi Chi. “That’s all that happened. They put me in a healing pod to get rid of my injuries.”

 

Chi Chi stared, disbelief on her face. “Excuse me?” Without asking, she lurched forward, and pushed up his torn shirt sleeve. She glanced quickly from Piccolo’s face, to where the wound should have been. 

 

“See?” He batted her hand away. “And that’s all. It just took a while. Presumably due to the nature of the wound - acid burning through my entire arm probably wasn’t an easy fix. Not to mention any of the bones I broke or dislocated.”

 

Chi Chi still seemed astonished.

 

“See? I told you that there was no reason for all of this.”

 

“Well, how was I supposed to know?!” Chi Chi snapped, and launched a rather impressive punch to his shoulder. She was practically spitting fire as she slammed her other fist into her steering wheel. “They came down out of nowhere! They took you, and they wouldn’t respond to me! I tried to grab one of ‘em, but he hit me around the head with a gun!” She pushed her bangs aside to show a rather impressive goosebump on her forehead. “Gohan was so upset….”

 

Piccolo tried not to look to long at her injured forehead, as guilt welled up inside of him.

 

“When I came to, that nasty creature was gone, and my yard was completely fixed,” Chi Chi continued, both amazement and irritation clear in her voice. “Gohan - being so smart - called 9-1-1, so we were at the hospital and didn’t see who fixed our yard.” She cut her eyes at him. “Would that be your employer?”

 

Piccolo shrugged. “I honestly don’t know. He just said that you were a royal pain, and to keep an eye on Bulma… also that I won’t be getting a car to replace the Pilot,” he grumbled.

 

Chi Chi perked up at that, and swiveled her waist. She reached into the back of the car, and pulled out a small safe that had been tucked under her seat. “It’s not going to be enough for a car,” she warned, “but I did have people pitch in to help raise some money.” She opened the lock, and shoved the safe into Piccolo’s lap. “I think we got about three thousand raised.”

 

Piccolo held the safe, stunned into silence. “Oh.”

 

“Yep, well.” Chi Chi looked self-satisfied. “It’s not the best amount in the world, but it was short notice. The first few days you were gone were spent making phone calls, and then setting everything up.” She smoothed out her dress, and gave him the ‘ok’ symbol. 

 

Piccolo felt as if he should say something, but instead he simply held the safe, mouth devoid of any words.

 

“I’m just going to pretend you said thank-you, then, you big jerk.” Chi Chi went to clamber out of her car, and bent at the waist so she could still speak to him. “You look tired. Why not take a nap in here - but I expect your lazy butt to be helping me out soon. I gotta get all this cleaned up before I go pick up Gohan from school.” Before Piccolo could say anything else, Chi Chi shut the door with formidable strength and left.

 

He decided to take her advice. The car was unbearably hot, so he cracked the window, before reclining the seat back. He hid the safe back underneath his seat, and pillowed his head in his arms. As his eyes fluttered closed, he felt a bone-deep weariness. So much was happening, and he was having a hard time keeping it all together. 

 

He wasn’t certain how long he’d dozed off for, but when he woke up, it was to several  _ Robo-Arcade _ flyers flapping underneath the windshield wipers, as Chi Chi angrily swiped them up and deposited them - responsibly - in the nearest trash can.

 

Piccolo stared blearily up at her as she clambered into the car, her face shining with sweat. She swiped at her bangs as they stuck to her, and he crinkled up his nose.

 

“You smell terrible.”

 

“I had to clean up all by myself!” Chi Chi groused. “A certain someone didn’t wake up and help me! I even slammed your hand in the car door on accident, and you still didn’t wake up!”

 

“You did what?” Piccolo demanded, hastily checking his hand. He couldn’t see any bruising…

 

“You’re getting a smaller portion for dinner,” Chi Chi decided. He wasn’t even aware that he’d been invited. “And don’t you complain about it.” She started up the car, and the AC kicked on, blissfully rolling over the occupants. “Now, let’s go get Gohan.”

 

She started to fiddle with the radio just as she backed out of the parking lot. Heavy metal poured through the speakers, and Chi Chi’s brow furrowed as a frown overtook her face.

 

“What…” She squinted at the radio, and tapped her finger impatiently against the steering wheel. Piccolo occupied himself by thinking about what he would do with the three thousand dollars he was now the proud owner of. He’d never had so much money at one time, and while it wouldn’t be enough to replace his car - and he certainly didn’t have a steady enough income to take up payments - he still needed to do  _ something  _ useful with it. Bills weren’t really a problem - the army took care of that.

 

He heard Chi Chi make an indignant noise, and he turned to see her fuming face. The radio had started to play a rather explicit rap song.

 

“When I moved here, I had all the radio stations checked!” Chi Chi snapped. “This is not appropriate music for a community with young children!”

 

Piccolo listened to the heavy rap, heavy rock, and Chi Chi’s heavy breathing. 

 

“Why keep listening to it, then?” Piccolo finally demanded.

 

“ _ Because _ ,” she snarled, as if it should be completely obvious, “I need to learn where they’re stationed at. Someone has to talk to the station manager about how inappropriate this is!” She thumped her fist against the wheel, and Piccolo scoffed.

 

They reached Gohan’s school, and Chi Chi hastily changed the station. She was still incredibly furious, even as Gohan clambered into the backseat, and gave Piccolo a rather awed look.

 

“I thought you were dead,” Gohan said solemnly. Piccolo noticed a ridiculous tinfoil hat wrapped around his bowl-cut hair.

 

“Why are you wearing that?” Piccolo demanded. “You look ridiculous!”

 

“I do not,” Gohan responded. “Anyways, I got everyone in class to wear them! Even my teachers!”

 

Piccolo glanced covertly out of the window, and saw that, indeed, several teachers were huddled nervously around students - all of them wearing the same ridiculous hats. He groaned, and flopped back in his seat as Chi Chi pulled away, still mumbling to herself.

 

“I read online that it keeps aliens away,” Gohan continued, undaunted. “I was really scared after you were taken away, and momma was in the hospital…” His voice trailed away, and he fiddled with the aluminum hat.

 

Piccolo’s frown softened. “I’m fine, brat. And so’s your mom. Obviously.” He jabbed a thumb in Chi Chi’s direction, who finally snapped to.

 

“Hm? You talking, green man?” Chi Chi glowered at him. 

 

“About your son’s ridiculous hat - yes.”

 

“I think it’s wonderful,” Chi Chi argued. “It’s showing his interest in his community! He was scared, and yet he came up with a solution. Don’t bully him.”

 

“I’m just saying,” Piccolo protested, “that I don’t see how wearing that is supposed to protect you.”

 

Gohan huffed. “But you don’t have any proof that it doesn’t.”

 

Piccolo opened his mouth, but snapped it shut rather angrily when he realized he didn’t, outside of it being ridiculous. Bested by a child, he angrily slumped down in his seat and listened to the rather unfortunate cover music sung by children that Chi Chi had set the radio on.

 

At the Son household, Chi Chi’s mood was still sour as she made dinner. Gohan cleaned himself up, and was put in charge of making sure Piccolo was also satisfactory, as Chi Chi was busy on the phone. 

 

“Hey,” Gohan said over the faucet water, his tiny hands lathered, “you wanna see my solar system? I’ve been working on it!”

 

Piccolo remembered having seen it in Chi Chi’s sewing room, and agreed to follow the boy. They tiptoed on socked feet, so that Chi Chi wouldn’t be angry that they were “messing around” - which is what Gohan assured Piccolo would happen.

 

In the sewing room, Gohan led him to the little solar system. The boy had made it all out of wire, and he spun it rather eagerly, showing Piccolo all the mechanisms. Piccolo gave it a rather bored flick, and wondered where his home planet would be in relation. Then he looked at the orange-painted sun, and remembered the strange ball he’d found at the site. He hadn’t been able to find it, and remembered that he’d dropped it in this very room.

 

Chi Chi hollered from downstairs, and Gohan hastily stood up. “C’mon!” he said, enthusiastically. “Don’t wanna keep her waiting!” He hightailed it downstairs, but Piccolo crouched down and peered underneath the dressers and tables. He didn’t see the strange ball, and pulled himself up. He supposed it didn’t matter what became of it, but he had wanted to run some tests on the thing.

 

He trudged downstairs, and saw that Chi Chi had stood true to her word. He had a smaller serving, and he gave her a rather dour look as he shoveled some food into his mouth.

 

Chi Chi flopped down in her chair, and jabbed her chin into her palm. She ate as if the food had personally offended her.

 

“I don’t understand!” Chi Chi huffed. “That radio station - it’s like it doesn’t exist! None of the local broadcasting towers know anything about it!” She furrowed her brow, and continued to munch angrily away. “You don’t think it’s…?” she trailed off, and looked meaningfully to Piccolo.

 

He shrugged. “Only one way to find out.”

 

Gohan glanced between them. “Wait, what’s happening? Are there more aliens?”

 

Chi Chi bit her lip. “I sure hope not…”

 

After dinner, Gohan told Piccolo in a whisper that he’d gone into the attic, and had stuffed aluminum all along the beams. 

“You’ve got a tin roof,” Gohan pointed out in a hushed tone, “so I think the theory is true.”

 

Piccolo wanted to tell the kid to get a grip. “If any aliens do come, I’ll take care of them,” he grumbled.

 

“Last time you didn’t come out looking to good,” Gohan said, dark eyes looming up at him. “And momma got hurt.”

 

“Not every alien is a lava shooting beast, all right?” Piccolo spat. He saw the reproachful look Gohan gave him, and his ears pinned back against his head. “Sorry, kid…” he mumbled.

 

Gohan stuffed his hands in his pocket, and fiddled with something. “It’s all right.”

 

“Piccolo.” He looked up, as Chi Chi reentered the kitchen from a phone call she’d been having. “I want to talk to you in private.”

 

Gohan took the cue, and quickly hurried away, only pausing to snag a book on his way up the stairs.

 

“Officer Krillin says he knows who could help us with this radio station business,” Chi Chi said. Her mood was dark, and angry, so Piccolo kept his mouth shut about the stupidity of saying ‘us’ when it was just her that had a problem. He supposed if it was another freak alien coming into the city, it would be up to him. “Unfortunately… he recommended me to Bulma Briefs.”

 

Piccolo stared. “You want me to go talk to the woman who said she’d have no problems blasting me?” he snarled.

 

“No,” Chi Chi snapped in return. “I think having you go would be incredibly stupid. However, I’m not taking Gohan over there…” She paused to rub at her arms. “That tiny ape she keeps… I don’t want Gohan anywhere near him or her!” Her jaw jutted out, and she leveled her gaze with Piccolo. “I want you to babysit Gohan while I’m gone.”

 

“The hell would I do that for?”

 

“Because… if you do, I’ll be your ride out to your crash sites.” Chi Chi looked terrified, but determined. Piccolo wondered why the hell she cared so much about this, enough to risk driving out towards something she was obviously scared of. 

 

But… she was afraid it might be alien intervention, or a threat to her precious community. And… he needed a ride.

 

“Fine.”   
  



End file.
